Post Inheritance
by Bromson
Summary: A story of what happens after Inheritance.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Christopher's characters.

A Thief in the Night.

She ran through the dark, silent woods. Her foot falls like a cat's on the leaf covered turf.

A few weeks after Eragons departure Arya realized that she couldn't spend the rest of her days as Queen of the elves. She had wished for it all too be over while it was happening. But now that Galbatorix really was dead Arya found herself restless. She looked back at some of her adventures with a certain fondness. There was also the matter of Eragon. She had broken his heart and she knew that he would never be the same if she didn't help him. He was just a farm boy who had found a dragon egg. And yet, despite everything he selflessly went in to battle against Galbatorix. He had lost so much, fighting for the freedom of Alegaiseia. And yet his reward for freeing the races of Alegasia from his tyrannical rule was leave and never come back. It wasn't fair. Besides he would be in no fit state to properly reestablish the dragon riders after all he had gone through. Arya made up her mind, she was going after him. Arya's decision was ubiquitously accepted. She was the hero after all. Her position was appointed as a mark if respect. After giving her position to an elf who was much better suited for the job. Arya became someone who was honoured because of what she had done. Not because of rank and title. She suspected that Firnens effect on her character had played a part in influencing her decision. She had decided to travel in a North easterly direction because she knew that the Edda river would eventually curve that way. And it was her best hope of cutting off Eragon. Also the unexplored forests in that direction would ensure that Firnen had enough to eat.

Firnen had gone hunting and Ayra had welcomed the opportunity to stretch her legs. She had also needed the time alone to make sense of her feelings for Eragon and sort out her worries. Would she be too late? What she would do when she met him? But the rhythmic creaking of the trees coupled with the gentle susurration of the leaves soon lulled her into a dreamful state. The forest smelled of rotting leaves and wood, not an altogether unpleasant sent she Remarked.

The sun was on it's last rays when Firnen spotted a hill with a small circular clearing at it's summit. Following his instructions she quickly found Arya strode into the clearing she noticed that Firnen was still out flying, enjoying the last rays of the sun and the updrafts. Arya seated herself on top of one of the large boulders strewn about the place, hugging her knees. The boulders were mostly oblongs. Most were laying on their sides but a few stood upright, like gravestones. She was dressed the same as usual. Sturdy but flexible leather boots, pants made out of black leather and an expertly crafted had tied her rich black hair in a pony tail, presumably to prevent it from snagging on anything. From her perch she could see a large part of the forest below. It was mostly deciduous. She judged her position to be around four hundred leagues north east of Duweldenwarden. This was confirmed by the deep voice of Firnen who had landed on the hard packed dirt beside the boulder. Firnens head poked up over the edge of the monolith and Arya noticed that his scales were splattered with a multitude of insects. Even so she had to admit that he looked glorious in the sunset. If you were going to fight a dragon having the sun at your back was not an advantage.

She noted with interest that Firnen had started surreptitiously edging over to a tree. It was a tall dead pine, perfect for firewood. He tried to clean his scales on it. Unfortunately this resulted in the tree giving an awful creaking sound. Before Arya could react the tree started tipping towards him. ''look out!'' She shouted with both her mind and her voice. She knew she couldn't stop it with magic the effort would be too much. Startled birds flew out of trees around the clearing as the pine crashed down on top of him. Firnen blinked and swiveled a large beady eye towards Arya. '' You tried to polish your scales the only dead tree within a league.'' Said Arya, in a matter of fact voice. He flicked his tail indignantly and assumed a regal position. ''I am not a hatching.'' This was followed by a long pause. After a while Arya asked if he was alright. The tree hadn't been especially thick but she had to ask. Furthermore the question was sure to sting his pride and this would accomplish far more than any amount of reprimanding. ''I am fine, Arya'' he said in a slightly exasperated voice. She smiled.

Deciding to spare him more embarrassment. Arya suggested that they make camp. Firnen quickly took off in search for some food. '' It will probably be a four-legs deer again.'' Thought Arya with a slight mental grimace. Her aversion to eating meat had diminished since she had bonded with Firnen. But even so she had no great love for the sight of Firnen ripping the guts out of an innocent dear. As Firnen flew down into a gully Arya jumped off of the boulder, dusted of her hands and started building the camp fire.

The next day Arya awoke to a sky full of billowing clouds. The forest was eerily silent so she concluded that it was still early in the morning. She had slept on a bed of moss and had wrapped herself in a blanket she had brought from Elesmiera. Firnen lay curled up on the other side of what had once been a roaring fire. Now all that was left where a few smoldering cinders. Whenever he exhaled twin spires of smoke rose from his nostrils. They curled in the air and dissipated, seeming to become one with the dense clouds overhead. Arya noted that Firnen's scales where now scrupulously clean. He must have bathed. She remembered him disappearing into a gully. There was probably a river down there. If they followed it downstream they would have a good chance of finding a settlement. It might even join up with the the Edda... After all this area hadn't been mapped and anything was worth a try.

The silence was not friendly. It wasn't even neutral. The trees did not seem to be leaning in on her or anything. But that just made it worse. It meant that it was real. It was getting to her. She felt like she shouldn't move. Like something was watching her from the trees. It was getting lighter and the forest should have been starting to stir. Arya reached out with her mind but all she felt were the slow pulsing life forces of the trees. There where countless thousands of insects covering the trees and the forest floor but from her perspective they all resembled glow worms. Some seemed to levitate, she knew from experience that these were spiders. The problem was that she couldn't detect any small animals. She looked over at Firnen. Maybe his imposing presence had scared them away. No, that wasn't right. The woods had resonated with the sounds of animal life yesterday and he had been with her in the clearing.

Something was definitely wrong. Any one looking at a picture of the scene would have said everything was as it should be. And they would have been right. That was the point, nothing physical was wrong but the atmosphere was as tense as a bowstring. She felt as if the slightest provocation would cause it to snap. Arya went to nudge Firnens mind... And her probe encountered emptiness.

As if it had been waiting for the opportune moment, the illusion of Firnen dissolved. Arya jumped to her feet, breathing hard. She no longer cared if there was something creepy it the woods. She was going to find her dragon. And she was going to find whoever took her dragon. And then she was... ...But that doesn't bare thinking about.


	2. Chapter 2

** Of Mountains and Mice**

It was getting late and Arya was getting tired. Even elves needed to eat and drink. After Firnens disappearance of Arya had struggled to control her emotions. In the end she had opted to go to the gully where she had seen him disappear the day before. Not surprisingly she had found no sign of him. From there she had continued downstream. Eventually the terrain had evened out and the river was now level with the rest of the forest. The contstant gurgling and rushing of the water of the had served to calm her down, a bit. Rocks and pebbles of various shapes and sizes dotted the riverside. On the opposite bank trees hung over the river trialing their branches in the water. The moisture from the river had caused lichen to grow on them so they resembled old men with their beards trailing in the water.

When it started to get dark Arya finally decided it was time to stop. She had made some noticeable progress and she felt better for doing so. Ahead of her, mountains loomed out above the tree line. Though not as large as the Beor mountains they where still an imposing sight, especially after several weeks spent looking at tree trunks. Some of their peaks were covered with snow. Finding a relatively sheltered niche beside a rocky outcrop Arya unslung her pack. She sat with her back to the rock as she opened her pack and rifled though it's contents. Arya took out her blanket and tossed it aside for later use. She removed the larger rocks from where she planned to sleep and placed the blanket on top for extra padding. Having finished this she took a spare set of clothes and a block of soap from her bag and headed off towards a deeper part of the river. Unseen, a frog hopped out from the cover of the trees.

Night was falling quickly as Arya returned to her campsite, she could see the first stars in the eastern sky. The bath had been great after the days of hard travel. A luxurious shower with carved walls and marble tiles was just as good as a dip in the river, when you got right down to it. Awed by the magnificence of the night sky she lowered herself onto the makeshift bed and watched as the stars come to moon didn't rise over the trees and the stars didn't illuminate everything with a pale silver glow after all they were just tiny specs of brilliance in the otherwise black sky.

Somewhere a cricket began to chirp and soon others began to join in. A frog croaked on the opposite bank and the sound reverberated through the trees. And as it got darker Arya saw bats start to filter across the gap in the trees over the river. Sometimes they would swoop down to catch insects just above the water line. It was all rather calming but she had trouble falling asleep. Her mind was still racing after the day's events. Her partner of heart and mind was gone and she was still in shock. She swore to herself that she would find him. At around midnight she finnally fell into her waking deams.

A gust of cold mountain air woke Arya. She shivered and resisted the urge to curl up into a ball and go back to sleep. Instead she sat up and reached into her bag for a packet of dried fruits she had brought from Elesmera. Her hand encountered something that was definitely alive and very slimy. She pulled it out. It croaked at her. A frog? How had it gotten into her bag? Deciding to leave this mystery for another time she gently placed the frog on a nearby stone and wiped her hand on another one. She looked inside her bag. It was a bit slimy but otherwise seemed alright. Removing the packet of dried fruits and a metal cup on a long straight handle she got up and picked her way towards the river. She gathered some pieces of driftwood and filled the cup with clear water. As she made her way back something occurred to her. Why hadn't she thought of it before! With all the driftwood laying around she could build a raft. It would save her hours of arduous walking. Arya guessed she hadn't been thinking very clearly yesterday. Placing the driftwood in a neat pile Arya murmured ''Brisingr''. She then proceeded to place the cup on the pile of burning wood and plop some dried fruits in the water. As she waited for her drink Arya started work on the raft. It wasn't elegant in the slightest. Being an elf this bothered her a bit, she decided to make a nicer looking paddle.

Arya had just started working on it when the tea began to boil. ''Brisingr letta'' she intoned and the fire was snuffed out.

She put the knife down beside the roughly shaped paddle and walked over to her tea. She poured the contents into another cup and let it warm her hands. As Arya sipped her tea she felt a measure of strength flow back in to her limbs. She looked over to check what had become of the frog... What! Now it was a toad. Arya knew how to tell the difference and she was certain that it had indeed been a frog. Something decidedly strange was going on in these woods. Downing the last mouth full she rolled up her blanket and placed the rest of her belongings in the brown leather bag which she then closed and slung onto her back. Deciding not to waste any more time Arya slipped her carving knife in to a sheath concealed in her right boot and picked up the half finished paddle. She pushed the raft out onto the river and deftly hopped on.

The castle stood about one third of the way up the mountainside overlooking the river village. It was the sort of insignificant place where heroes were born. Near the top of the castle there was a dusty and presumably unoccupied chamber. The wooden walls had gone dark with age and a slight breeze made a mournful howling noise through the broken window. Dark clouds were fast approaching from the wall of mountains behind the castle the room darkened as the sun was blotted out by the clouds and the howling of the wind increased in its intensity. A large fourposter bed stood unused, its headpiece was pushed up against a wall. A faint scratching sound was coming from the bottom of the wall by the door. A small piece of wood was pushed aside and fell on to the wooden floorboards the sound punctuating the howling of the wind. A small voice came from the hole ''Common lads, the room is empty!'' it said. A gangly looking white mouse crawled out of the hole and dropped to the ground. Then another one and another one until there where about twenty of them huddled around the hole. At which point two strong looking mice helped the fat one through. ''Alright lads now all we need to do is chew through that wall under the bed and were in the treasure room." said the gangly one enthusiastically. "And what do we do then?" asked a mouse who looked to be permanently confused. "Look, we have gone over this before. We were getting chased by the cat in our own world when suddenly we shot out of this crystal ball in this castle, right?" The mouse looked around as the other mice nodded in affirmation. "Right'' he said again. "So then the maid noticed us and chased us with her broomstick and we ran for it, didn't we lads?" Another chorus of nodding and mumbled yeses. "Right" he obviously liked the word. "So now we're locked out of the treasure room and the only way back to our own world is through that crystal ball in the treasure room. Does that explain it?" There was a third and final chorus of yeses. "Right lads let's start chewing, we'll take it in shifts."

The ride was rather uneventful for Arya, she mostly sat in silence reviewing spells that she thought might come in handy when she faced whoever had abducted her dragon. Sometimes when the raft veered off course she would make a minor correction with the paddle but it mostly stayed in the center dragged along by the current. At noon the trees gave way to muddy fields on her right they stretched out until they reached the base of the mountain range. There was what looked like a small fishing village about three quarters of the way down the fields. Arya supposed that the villagers used the rich soil for farming but the omnipresent mud assured her that they had already harvested their crops. A winding dirt track led up from the village and made its way to a castle situated on the side of the nearest mountain. Dark clouds quickly approaching from the mountains reminded Arya of how desperately she needed shelter, some hot food and a good night's sleep. She began to paddle in hope of reaching the village before the rain did.

As Arya moored her craft on the muddy river bank the sun disappeared behind a blanket of clouds. She stepped of the raft, the mud squelched under her boots as she made her way to the village. An eight foot high stone wall surrounded it, even though she could have easily climbed over, Arya opted to circle around and find the gate.

There it was again. At first Arya thought it was just the usual silence before the storm. But with every squelching step she grew more and more certain that it wasn't an ordinary silence. It was something deeper, it felt similar to what she had experienced when Firnen had disappeared. And the feeling seemed to be emanating from the castle. Arya decided that she would venture there tomorrow but right now she needed food and a good night's rest.

A cry of ''Who goes there?'' snapped her out of her revery and back into reality. She looked up to see the heads and shoulders of two guards poking out above the gate.


	3. Chapter 3

**I am Arya Svitkona**

''I am Arya Svitkona'' she said.

The guards considered this for a while.

Arya studied them, they had conical helmets on their heads and their shoulders were covered with chain mail. Arya assumed they had never heard of elves.

It had started to drizzle.

''So, you're not from around here, are you? asked the older looking guard.

She answered this with a polite nod.

It had started to rain in earnest and Arya could hear it drumming against their helmets. The guards must have been standing on an inner walkway because the wall was a lot taller than the average man and their heads and shoulders indicated that they were of average size.

''What brings you to Hedgehog then?'' asked the smaller guard.

''I have traveled long and I am in need of lodging and a meal.''

''Alright you can pass. Open the gates!"

The older guard cut him off ''Hold it right there! One more question and I will let you pass. Why have you got pointed ears?''

The younger guard had been making frantic shushing motions but apparently the older one hadn't noticed.

'' I have been like this for as long as I can remember" said Arya doing her best to sound embarrassed.

The younger guard hung his head in shame but the older one seemed satisfied.

''Alright we'll let you pass, just don't make any trouble with that sword of yours and cover your ears for the villager's sake. I wouldn't like them to panic because they got it into their heads that those ridiculous children's stories are true. They are too scared to venture outside the town as it is, people say a foul presence haunts the countryside.''

''Open the gates!''

Twin doors of oak swung outwards on well oiled hinges.

Arya stepped inside the gates and sniffed the air, it wasn't too bad. The village layout could be best described as a wagon wheel. Rows of houses formed the spokes. The wall surrounding the village formed the rim. And if you were feeling particularly inventive, you could remove the axle and say that the resulting hole represented the village square.

Arya glanced back to see that the guards were indeed standing on a walkway attached to the inside of the wall. It had a guard rail to prevent them from falling off backwards. A set of stairs on either side of the gate provided a safe means of getting up to it. A large gap between the outermost houses and the wall formed a track which circled the village. Arya started to walk down the dirt track leading to the village square. Dispute its small size the houses in this settlement were of a fine make, more like the ones in Tirm then in Carvahall. Most had steps leading up to stout wooden doors, some even looked to have two levels. Arya could now hear a hubbub of voices coming from the square. When she emerged from between the last few houses she saw a typical market. Salesmen, women and even children had set up stalls laden with fruits, vegetables, clothes and jewelery. Most of the children had just placed cloths with wood carvings or interesting stones in front of them. Arya was familiar with most of the merchandise but there where some fruits she had never seen or even heard of before. This prompted the thought they might have been imported from across the mountain range. Maybe even by the same river that she had chanced upon.

The rain was coming down harder then ever and people where starting to pack up their belongings. The crowd soon dispersed as everyone headed down one of the thirty of so different roads. The sky which already consisted of dark clouds had gone even darker due to the fact that the sun set earlier on the artificial horizon created by the mountain range.

As the people cleared out of the square Arya walked over to it's center and stepped on to a large wooden platform. It was circular and had small steps facing towards the gate. She supposed that whoever lived in the castle would address the villagers from here. From the center of the platform Arya could look down every road but any sign of an inn eluded her.

Someone tapped her elbow ''Excuse me miss but it's getting dark and there's a curfew so it you want to stay in here overnight you'd better come with me.''

It was a scrawny boy of about eleven, he wore mud colored hem trousers and a sheep's wool jacket. The color of his pants matched that of the mud so perfectly that Arya couldn't tell if the pants were muddy or not. His matted dark blond hair hung in strands about his head. He carried two brown bags one was large and filled with merchandise the other was small and jingled with coins.

"And where would that be?" she asked

"O just down this road over here." he said pointing to their left.

''Do you live here?'' he nodded .

''And would your parents let me stay in your house for the night?" The boy had suddenly developed an acute interest in a speck of mud on his left boot. "They are not my real parents.'' he mumbled Arya didn't quite know what to do. She had spent her life doing things she deemed to be important and that meant that she'd never had to deal with children. She awkwardly patted him on the back and asked if his foster parents would take her in.

''I think so... Why do you have pointy ears?'' "I am an elf '' she said as he led the way to his house. ''Aren't they... you know, a story?'' he asked, his words steadily decreasing in volume. "Some stories are true.'' he nodded conceding her point. But noted that she hadn't directly answered his question." What is your name?" ''Desket'' "Pleased to meet you Desket, I am Arya" She knew enough about the ways of children and adults not to shake his hand.

As Desket led the way down one of the roads Arya changed her appearance with magic. Arya used a lengthy spell she had memorised just for such an occasion. When Desket turned around to check if she was still there she resembled a normal human. He didn't notice.

A roll of thunder came down from the mountains.

About half way down the track Desket turned to the left and ascended a set of stairs toward a ramshackle house. He knocked at a plain wooden door. There came the sound of braking crockery and soon after an angry shout. The door swung open and a thick hand grabbed the boy's ear and twisted, making him wince. ''Late again! I'll give you such a hiding!.." The man's voice died down as Arya diplomatically stepped into view. The man loosened his grip and Desket slipped into the house.

''It was I who kept him late. I arrived by the river not an hour ago, hoping to find some food and a place to sleep. I did not find either."

''But then you found the boy.''

"Yes. When I asked if his family would have me he refused, he only led me here when I agreed to pay handsomely.''

So saying she produced a gold coin from her pocket and handed it to the man. His mood changed abruptly.

"Why didn't you say so before! At least that boy has learned some lessons.'' he chuckled. ''I told him he wouldn't forget! Ha!"

Why was she doing this? She supposed she wanted to make a difference in his life. Her life had been far from perfect but at least she had helped to free millions of people from Galbatorix's rule. She'd had the chance to fight for what she believed in, to do what she thought was right. She respected herself and took pride in her accomplishments. Desket, on the other hand, had nothing. If she didn't do something he would grow up to become like his foster father. When he got down on his luck, drink would be the only thing that could drag him out of his misery. What else?

The man was getting impatient and it seemed that whenever he got impatient he got angry. ''Hey wench! Are you coming or not.''

Arya made up her mind. With his permission she would take Desket with her in the morning. She gave the man a smile that made him jump, and stepped through the open doorway.

Desket's stepmother was even worse than her husband. She seemed to be the brain wile her husband was the brawn. Admittedly, she had given Arya some cold porridge and a damp mattress when her husband had shown her the coin. Arya was given the room with the squeaky door, because that is how Desket's step parents thought. When she was alone, Arya dried the mattress and heated up her porridge with magic. Arya ate in silence. When she finished her porridge Arya placed the bowl on the floorboards with a soft clink. Then she lay down on the mattress listening to the rain drumming against the side of the house and waited for the inevitable.

Well into the night there came a soft knock at her door.

Arya had been ready for this. She reached out with her mind "slither''. Upstairs two bodies fell into a deep sleep. "Come in" she said. The hinges made a sound loud enough to wake the dead as Desket pushed it open. He winced, then declared "I can't stay here any longer, I've wanted to run away for a long time but there hasn't been an opportunity. Will you help me escape?''

She nodded and his face lit up.

Then we have to be quick, the door probably woke my step parents!

''Don't worry, I put them into a deep sleep with magic.''

Desket looked incredulous and Arya believed in practical solutions.

''Reisa'' she intoned.

No other word could have convinced Desked so quickly.

At Deskets insistence Arya explained how magic worked more or less. She had also told him enough about her past so that he would know what was going on when things started happening. Desket had been amazed to hear about the riders, the evil king and how Arya had ended up coming here. When Arya told Desket about how she had lost her dragon, he had resolved to help he find it. Try as she might Arya couldn't dissuade him and she would never use magic to change his mind. You could try to change someones mind by talking to them but ultimately their decisions were their own and should stay that way. Arya knew that they both needed to sleep before going up to the castle to face whatever had taken Arya's dragon. When she felt it was getting late she sent Desket back to his room to pack his belongings. Arya told him she would wake him at dawn if he wasn't already awake.

Aray woke Desket just before dawn. He was so ecstatic that it took him only a few seconds to awaken fully. Arya had put an invisibility spell on them before she opened the front door. The nature of the spell was such that they could still see each other but not themselves. The fact that the door had been locked from the inside hadn't been much of a problem and had only strengthened Arya's resolve. The storm had passed leaving the air smelling of down the steps while invisible had presented Desket with a bit of a problem but Arya had caught him just in time.

The rain had left the roads even more muddy than yesterday. Desket's shoes squelched in the predawn silence. Arya's didn't.

When they got to the wall Desket gave her a questioning look. It soon turned to horror as Arya's lips parted to deliver the dreadful word ''reisa''. He kept his eyes screwed tightly shut as they gently floated in a narrow arch around the wall to be gently set down on the road meandering towards the castle.


	4. Chapter 4

** A Chance Meeting  
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With gravel crunching underfoot Arya and Desket walked side by side up the gently sloping base of the mountain. The sun, having just risen a few minutes ago, now warmed them from behind. On either side of the twisting path, muddy farmlands had been replaced with grassy meadows. These were being hemmed in by a green wall of trees on either side of the path. Further up the hill the trees met, shaping the lighter green of the fields into an arrowhead. The only clouds in sight danced around the mountain tops, where the humid air, blown up from the forest below condensed into mist.

''You know that mad king Demrock lives up there?'' Asked Desket.

''Does he come down to your village often? I saw a the podium in the square where you were selling your things, and supposed that it had been erected as a way for someone to address the villagers.'

' ''No,I've never seen him. It's always been a royal representative and five or six guards. They come down on the same day of every month with a message from the king. The messenger would step onto the podium and preach the kings ideas. In fact, that day will be tomorrow.''

Arya thought about this and the beginnings of a plan began to evolve in her mind. Then, there were the mad kings. She had had enough of those. There had been mad King Palancar and his descendants, the slightly mad, King Orrin of Sudra, Galbatorix, and now Demrock! All the Queens had been perfectly sane.

As they got closer to the woods the castle slowly dipped out of view behind the treeline. The trees were mostly pines, and they got steadily smaller as the altitude increased. Arya wondered who had made the path, it was all hard packed dirt and gravel and it had a faint reddish hue. She was also curious as to whether it would continue through the woods up ahead. She soon got her answer. As they stepped into the shade of the trees the gravel was gradually replaced with were now about half a league from the castle and Arya could feel the filtering but never the less silent presence which had bugged her ever since Firnens disappearance steadily getting closer.

As Desket stumbled over a root smoothed down by countless feet Arya wondered what it would be like to be a human. It must be much more exiting then being an elf. It seemed to her that humans with their short life spans tried to cram them full of unnecessary things to make them seem longer. Some of which none of the elves would ever consider doing because they knew they would have eons to reflect upon what it was that they had done.

Arya became doubly sure that whatever had taken Firnen was at the castle when the sudden realisation dawned on her that the forest was utterly silent. She could still hear their breathing and the rustling of their clothes though, so It wasn't stealing sound away but rather making things be quiet. Arya had noticed the change in Desket too. It looked as though he was subconsciously trying to be quiet.

Arya assumed that she hadn't been affected because she was aware of the presence. The very fact that everyone else was quiet made her wish to be so as well. Arya suppressed the urge. No self respecting Shurtugal would cower around while their dragon was in danger. She walked on, daring the presence to challenge her.

Arya's foot slipped and scuffed against the ground dislodging a rock which started to bounce down the track and eventually rolled into a thicket. Even though anyone who knew Arya would have been surprised, she took no notice. Desket was doing his best to keep up as he was red in the face and breathing hard. Arya looked back at the boy and saw him stumbling up the mountain behind her determined to rescue her dragon. With his pack laden heavy with provisions, she took pity on him and slowed her pace.

Light was visible up ahead, shining through the gaps in the forest, not through the trees themselves.

''Arya'' he gasped.

She turned to face him, a questioning expression crossed her face.

"Did.. you.. bring any.. water?'' He managed to get out between breaths.

With her expression softening she then looked around for some thick moss. Moss could trap an amazing amount of water. Whats more, it filtered the water leaving it as pure as if it had been cleansed by a spell. Arya didn't want to use magic in case she attracted unwanted attention.

''No, but we will not die of thirst. See this patch of moss?''

She picked it up and squeezed it lightly and a few drops of water fell to the ground .

"You can drink form it, the water is clean. Only...'' She paused. '' Try not to tear it, and place it on the ground with the roots to the earth.''

He did as she said. Arya took the opportunity to have a drink as well and was revitalised as they continued up the path. They emerged from beneath the trees, but they stayed under their shadows. Ahead the steep slope evened ou with tufts of grass and a few hardy wild flowers which grew on the uneven ground. A few hundred paces up and over to the right stood the castle.

It looked as if it had been built by someone who had heared all about castles from some imaginative heroes but had never actually seen one. Picture it. The whole stone structure was rectangular and every corner was rounded by a tower decked by a conical roof. Each roof had been polished so that it gleamed in the early morning sun. A row of small glass windows encircled each tower just below the rim of each roof. These were attached from the inside, so only a few caught the light. An apple tree had been planted on the same relatively flat stretch of land that the castle was built on. Needless to say, it wasn't doing very well.

The wall connecting each tower was roughly two thirds of the towers height. At the very top of each wall every second stone had been thrown out in an attempt to replicate what the king probably thought was a style. The wall facing them had a set of large wooden pine gates that had been darkened which in Aryas opinion was a mockery of the true beauty of oak. Two rows of windows spanned the wall one at the height of the gate, the other about twelve feet above it. Judging by how far apart they were, Arya presumed that each window belonged to a separate room.

Heartened by Arya's confident stride, Desket followed her as she made her way to the gates. As yet, he hadn't seen the mad king or his guards as he hoped that they had gone off somewhere probably on some wild errand of the king trying to find a magical tree or something.

Maybe, that odd healer was egging him on. She had come to the village about a week ago and had bought an interesting rock he was selling. She had been in good humor but Desket had got the feeling that she could see right through him. The next day she had left for the castle.

A pebble in his shoe had been bothering him since they had started out ,but he didn't want to seem like a ninny in front of Arya, so he kept quiet. He couldn't sit down and take his shoe off because of Arya's break-neck pace. Anyway, he didn't want to inconvenience her. He had watched her iron self control begin to rust as they neared the castle. At times her hands shook slightly. Whenever he thought she wasn't looking, he jiggled his foot around in hope of dislodging the dratted thing from his heel and into the toe area so he could at least have some semblance of control. Inevitably, it would slip back down.

He stood back as Arya knocked of the gates, the sound reverberateing out over the country side. It was so loud that by his calculations that if had he been ten, he would have been convinced that the sound could be heared down in the village. On the other side of the thick doors, there came the sound of someone trying to be quiet. Then a small peep hole was opened at eye level.

"Who goes there?" It was unmistakably the voice of a guard because all the syllables were drawn out.

''I am Arya and. Desket!'' He obediently shuffled into view. ''And this is Desket. I have an important matter to discuss with the king.'' Desket stepped back.

''Very well, just wait here while I tell the king'' The guard returned after a lengthy period, his face glistened with sweat and as he kept muttering something. Wordless, he slid back a bolt and pushed open the gates. Desket had to step aside to avoid being swept up by a giant door. The guard stood aside to let them pass and Desket followed the human looking elf inside. Directly behind the gates was a roofless garderobe. It was a smallish rectangular room with a normal sized brown door opposite the gates and a bench with a various assortment of shoes under it at either end. Desket had heared that you were supposed to leave your shoes here or something. The Guard stood by mopping his brow while Arya stood by the door waiting for Desket to finish wrestling with his shoes.

The guard produced a key and turned it in the lock clockwise seven times. He concentrated on the task in an obvious effort to keep his gaze from wandering. Desket, who had by now gotten his shoes off, watched Arya stoically observing the guard's fumbling efforts to get the key loose as it had gotten stuck in the lock and he doubted that her scrutiny was helping. After letting this continue for a while, Arya took charge. Desket wasn't sure whether this was because she felt sorry for the guard, or because she was just impatient or both. Whatever the reason, Arya gently pushed the guard aside and turned the handle.

As the door swung open Desket took in the view as there was no doubt as to whether this was the throne room which tookk up most of the first floor . There was an old man who looked to be the king sitting on a golden throne against the far wall . The throne stood upon a carpet which Desket assumed it used to be red but was now dark brown in color. The carpet was at it's darkest between the door and the king , but turned red ten paces from the throne. Suddenly the shoe policy made sense although it was rather late to save the carpet. The king was supposedly the type who thought that certain principles had to be upheld regardless. Due to the room's size, wooden pillars were spaced evenly throughout it supporting the weight of the floor above.

The king's crown... His view was momentarily blocked as Arya stepped through the door. ...The crown was a plain golden band, though abnormally high. Desket pushed past the guard who was still fruitlessly fumbling with the lock and followed Arya who was purposefully striding towards the king. She stopped five paces from the king. Desket stopped a few feet behind her and watched the exchange.

"Where is my dragon?'' Said Arya.

''Oh, ah, I wouldn't know. Umm, wh-who are you?'' Said Demrock.

"That doesn't matter. Do you have something magical upstairs?" Said Arya, this was of course a rhetorical question, she could feel the energy, it thrummed.

"No.'' Said the king , with a steely glint in his darting blue eyes.

"You will tell me where it is or I will take the information by force.'' Thretened Arya.

''You can't do that, it's up here.'' He tapped his head.

''Believe me, I can.'' The king considered this for a while. He adopted a benevolent expression and screamed. ''Guards!"

As Demrock settled himself in his throne, Desket saw Arya sway momentarily as Demrock winced. Then, Arya said something that sounded like "slither'' and the king and the guards who had just ran in dropped to the carpeted ground.

"Did you kill them" asked Desket, unknowingly echoing the question most people asked when they first saw this happen.

''No, I just put them to sleep. It doesn't require as much energy.'' Replied Arya simply.

Desket decided to stay out of her way until she found her dragon. He followed her across the room to a set of stairs they ascended the stairs until the got to the second level. Arya moved as if she was hunting an elusive sent. Finnaly, halfway down a hallway with a window at each end, Arya stopped in front of a door. It wasn't any different from all the other doors except for a sign that read "Royal Treasury.'' Desket watched as Arya almost tentatively reached for the door knob.

She pushed the door open. Desket couldn't see inside as yet. His view of the treasury was further postponed because Arya had stopped on the doorstep.

''Angela?"

''Arya? " After a brief pause.''I have just as much right to be surprised as you. You know. Well, come in, you know it's bad luck to stand on the door step. Luckily I have just kitted a pair of socks that should counteract that.''

Angela was sitting on the edge of a bed that looked out of place among all the jewels, she winked at Desket as he stepped inside,then turned back and faced Arya.

"I have lost my dragon." Said Arya.

''I know." Replied Angela.

''While I was searching for him I chanced upon the presence I felt when he disappeared. I followed it into this treasure room only to find you sitting here. Do you know anything about the disappearance of my dragon? Asked Arya.

A guilty expression crossed Angela's face.

Yes. She said at length. Angela reached under the blankets and pulled out a large crystal sphere.

"It seems that we both followed the same thing.''

She placed it on the bed. Images bobbed around in it at times they would replace each other in quick succession though some lingered for a few seconds.

"It's a scrying globe that reaches other worlds. But don't let that mystisize you, they're just really far of places after all. If you place your finger on it will anchor you to the world keeping the image locked in place" She showed them.

''The interesting thing about this one is, that it has gone berserk.''

"What do you mean" Asked Arya.

"Well, it's started to take things out of worlds and put them into others, it also leaves after images of whatever it takes, behind. This is probably becau-

Arya cut her off "Is this what happened to Firnen?''

''Yes, it seems to be the most likely eventuality.'' Said Angela after a slight pause

''How can I get him back.''

''Destroying it will probably do the trick, theoretically this should replace every thing in its proper place and time. But there is always a small chance that this will sever the only life line Firnen has without actually bringing him back.

You could try looking through all the possible worlds and get him to fly back through the opening between those and this one. The choice is yours.''

Right now the sphere was displaying an image of a putrid wasteland, a fiery eye peered through the mists. Arya instinctively put her hand on it.

She reach out with her mind and recoiled instantly, but the peek had been enough, the outline of a dragon appeared through the dense mist. Her hands clamped around the crystal ball Arya looked out of the window. The village and the surrounding countryside looked like a small clearing compared to the vastness of the forest encircling the patch of cleared land. She scanned the slope for a safe place to deposit Firnen. Just above the tree line, a few hundred paces from the castle, there was a hollow in the ground a bit to the left from where they had emerged. She directed the connection between the realities toward it.

''Fly Firnen, too me!"

She watched in horrified fascination as the image of Firnen looped through the smoke and flew towards her. A hundred yards, sixty yards, twenty yards and then the image was filled with a single scale. It lingered in her vision for a millisecond, as these things do and then it was gone leaving behind the deserted wasteland with the flaming eye peering through the noxious fumes.

In a few moments this image sank back into the depths of the sphere and a scene of blue sky's, rolling hills and white sheep happily munching away at the at the luscious grass filled the crystal.

"Firnen!" Cried Arya melding her mind with his.

He had just apeared where she had planned to drop him and was looking around. Arya ran out of the room and dashed through the wide hallway towards the steps leading past the throne room and ultimately to the gates. Barely ten seconds had gone by before the gates were flung open and Arya emerged, sprinting towards Firnen.

Back in the room Desket watched in stunned silence as a group of talking mice popped through a hole in the wall. Angela said something in an unknown language but Desket understood and so did the mice because they scrambled over to the foot of the bed. Angela concentrated for a second then lowered the sphere. The mice jumped through, disappearing into their own world.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Hermit  
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Mist parted around the green dragon as it glided through the chilly air, two dark silhouettes outlined in white sat in the dip at the base of it's neck. They were protected from his razor scales by a thick leather saddle. The smaller figure clung feverishly to the taller one as a snowy mountain side came into view up ahead. Firnen banked sharply to the right in order to avoid the jagged wall of granite. Flying into that would be like stomping on a pincushion the cushion being the snow. After a while he felt a change in the air, swooping down he left the clouds behind. A valley, nestled between the heights came into view. Firnen was still young and he carried two riders. One was a dragon rider the other one was a kid named Desket who was riding on him. Firnen knew the difference, Desket didn't, Firnen let out a frustrated puff of smoke. His keen eyes spotted the cottage at the same time as Arya. Desket, who was clinging to Arya with surprising strength, just knew there would be one as soon as he saw the valley. In all the stories he'd heard there was always a mysterious hermit living some place remote and the hero would always met him, It was mandatory. After flying on a dragon for the whole day Desket certainly felt like a hero.

Though he would never admit it, Firnen was now barely strong enough to keep them in the air. Behind the cottage the valley was mostly trees. A small lake sat, frozen over, in front of it. He circled round behind until he found a gap in the trees.

The hermit, who was only known as The Hermit was just melting a block if ice in a brazier hung from a nail in his chimney when he chanced to look out the window.

Seeing no reason to panic, and having spent his whole life trying to be sensible he made two make shift beds out of blankets he had found around the cottage and placed them by the fireplace. Then he started preparing a pot of goulash, a soup he remembered favorably form his childhood.

Soon there came a knocking at his door. Taking his beard out form his stained shirt he shuffled over to the door, it had been tucked in to prevent it from catching fire. The Hermit lifted the rough leather flap above the peep hole. He had carved out the hole on the basis that if there wasn't anyone at the door by the time he got there it would save him the trouble of having to open it. He had eventually gotten over the habit of poking his head out every time he heard knocking and didn't see anyone, mostly because either, there really was no one there, or someone was planning to jump you.

The old man peeped through it, a bright, emerald green eye stared back at him. He unlatched the lock which he had made from a bit of wire he opened the door. Snow blew in on a gust of the icy mountain air.

''Can I help you?'' He asked.

"Can we shelter in your house for the night?'' Asked Arya.

"Eh... how many of you are there?''

"Just me and the boy."

The hermit looked down, "ah." He nodded, his beard flying in the gale. Ushering them inside, he closed the door. There was no satisfying click of an expensive lock, it just sort of wedged shut. The Hermit bade them to sit at the table while he made some soup. The table stood lengthwise along the wall with the window at it's center. They watched the world getting dark outside. Snow had started to fall by the time their soup was served. In Desket's opinion It was delicious. Arya's face remained expressionless as she masticated her way through the meat. She seemed to be concentrating very hard on something outside.

When they were both done Arya thanked The Hermit and passed her bowl to Desket who was sitting closer to the hermit. Tiered as he was he stumbled and dropped it. It fell onto the floor with a resounding crack. Blushing and apologizing, Desket started picking up the pieces. The Hermit proffered another bowl and Desket put the shards in it. After eying Desket's fearful expression he sighed and gave a little smile.

"The ice of my heart cannot boil and yet still remain ice." Said the Hermit.

''Pardon?'' Asked a weary Desket.

"He is saying that lack of emotion and anger are mutually exclusive." Explained Arya momentarily glancing away from the endless snow fall outside

Desket was still mystified.

''He is not angry." Said Firnen. Sometimes a dragon is needed in order to see what's what, thought Deasket vaguely. A contented purring as if from the worlds largest cat filled his mind. For a second he was alarmed, then he remembered the dragon's ability to touch other minds.

Yawning, he asked if he could go to bed. The hermit nodded and pointed towards the stack of blankets by the fireplace. Desket bade Arya good night and she nodded a him before turning back to the window, she seemed lost in thought. Gratefully, Desket lay down on the hastily assembled bed and let the fire warm his toes. He also let his thoughts drift away, they had been wanting to do so for a while, he had kept them from wandering to some far off place by pure force of will. In a matter of minutes he was fast asleep.

After he had finished washing the dishes and wiped down the counter the hermit announced he was going to go to bed upstairs. Before he left, Arya asked ''Is there anything we can do to repay your kindness.'' He considered this for a while then said " Well, melting the lake would be nice, that way I wouldn't have to cut my drinking water with a saw. But unless I am very mistaken about you I don't see how you could do it.'' With that, he turned and made his way up the stairs.

Outside, emerald tendrils of flame licked the ice of the lake, causing steam to rise.

As Arya watched the bright flashes outside her thoughts turned inevitably towards Eragon. If they got started early and kept up a decent pace during the day, they should be able to reach to the Edda river as it curved northwards and then... But there was no point thinking about it she would see what really happened and then think about it. Arya noticed that the hermit had not commented on her elvish features, maybe he had never heard of elves, maybe he had not mentioned his observations on the grounds that they were obvious and did not provide any special insight. Everyone else was always commenting about how she was an elf, she wondered if he for one, had gotten it right. Concentrating on her thoughts Arya lost her self awareness and fell into the waking dreams that were unique among the elves.


	6. Chapter 6

**Reunions **

Six hooded figures stood unmoving, on the very edge of the desert. The toes of their crude leather shoes almost touching the smooth waters of the murky colored river. Wide and sluggish it separated them from the greenery, trees and eventually the foot hills. As a gust of chilly wind came from the land on the other side of the river they all raised their cowled heads in unison. This would have made an impressive and quite unsettling sight if anyone had been watching. But since that was not the case it just meant that they overlooked the wave caused by the gust, it soaked their sandals. Their surprisingly pale faces went a safe blank as the six started chanting, it grew louder as a hot, dry wind started blowing from the desert. Their robes billowed and sand stuck to their exposed ankles. The fine desert sand was starting to form a thin crust on the surface of river.

The lake was steaming vigorously in the morning. Firnen liked the hot air-water it warmed his upper half which didn't fit in the lake and condensed on his eyes so that he didn't have to bother with blinking. His muscles had long since ceased to ache as a result of the hot water. It had only taken a few hours to completely melt the lake but some of the shallower parts were nearly boiling while the deeper parts remained cool. He hadn't thought that there would be many big creatures living under the ice, they had made nice snacks. Of course he wasn't going to tell Arya, she wouldn't approve. It the sky was just acquiring a faint blue tinge when he got a message from Arya. They were leaving and she had thought it best to meet at the back of the cottage where Firnen had first landed. This was mostly so as to not alarm the hermit. Firnen reluctantly dragged himself out of the warm lake, his body steaming in the frigid air. Omnypresent snow glittered with reflected light. Firnen's pupils contracted into pinpricks and he shook himself in an effort to dislodge some of the water between his scales. Firnen said his goodbyes to the wonderfully soothing lake and it's cargo of delicious snacks then he took off, making for a spot some four hundred paces behind the Hermit's house.

Arya and Desket also said their goodbyes, but to the hermit who had gotten up to see them off. They and stepped out of the front door squinting at the bright snow. With feet crunching pleasantly in the fresh snow they circled round the cottage. When they were nearly out of human ear shot Arya heard the door shut. The firs and pines were laden with the fresh snow and from time to time there would be a cascade as it fell to the ground.

"This reminds me of Eirnur, a celebration we always have in the winter. It's for the god Eir to stop it from snowing and to bring the spring more quickly than it usually comes. But personally I have always loved the winter because it makes the spring special, my neighbors would always bring me gifts...''

Arya nodded and looked around, admiring the beauty of the place, the snow covered trees the pristine white of the snow and mountains surrounding the valley. After a while Arya and desket emerged into the clearing where Firnen had landed the day before, he was already waiting for them, his green scales a welcome sight after the endless, eyewatering whiteness. Arya dryed Firnen's saddle with a lengthy spell, helped Desket up by way of tossing him and was pleased to see that Desket had taken the initiative to strap his legs to the saddle. She ran up Firnen's side and jumped on behind behind him. As they took off she proffered Desket a salve to keep his lips from form cracking in the freezing air.

"How went your stay with the hermit man?" asked Firnren as Desket carefully applied the cream.

"He seemed to be a little uh, crabby in the beginning. Especially so when I dropped one of his bowls... But he did turn out to be very nice." Replied Desket.

Arya and Firnen exchanged an amused mind-look.

"Maybe he knows some riddles?'' Said Firnen. He let the question linger.

Watching from a previously shuttered window the hermit watched the dragon take off and fly out of the valley scales glittering and wings making rithmic whoomps in the in the othewise silent air.

"How do you plan to find Eragon? Asked Desket.

"If you don't mind me asking."

"No, we should come upon the Edda river when we cross these mountains. As I am sure you know he is sailing this way on the Edda. Since we will almost certainly be ahead of him I will wait by the river." With that she resumed her stolid silence.

Later that day Desket and Firnen exchanged riddles while Arya looked out across the snowy mountains, at the edge of sight a faint band of yellow had come into view.

"It has been around for eons, but it's never more than a month old. What is it?" Asked Desket

"Hhmm... The common house fly? Chanced Firnen.

"No! It's the moon, the moon has been around for eons but it gets reborn every month."

"What is is that you will break even as you name it?" Asked Firnen, a sly glint in his eyes. "Silence." Was Desket's prompt reply.

Arya companionably patted Firnen on his wing.

There was a long pause while all Desket heard was the whistling of the air as his ears rushed past it. The band of yellow was transforming into the edge of what was clearly a desert.

Seeming suddenly invigorated Firnen asked his next riddle.

What is hot and dry and has no clouds in sight. What has no eyes. Where, are there dunes of sand? What is this land?

"Ha! That was the easiest riddle I have ever heard, it's the desert." Said Desket.

"No, it is home.'' Answered Firnen.

They all gazed at it.

Underneath Firnen, the mountains already seemed less imposing, winter no longer stayed here year round. The sun was already low in the horizon when Firnen left the mountains behind; it's nearly horizontal rays cast his shadow far across the darkening sand dunes. He would have continued if not for a slight change in the air.

"There is water beneath me.'' Said a surprised Firnen.

He circled over the unseen river again. "Are you sure?" asked Arya.

"Yes."

As if on cue a tall elven ship sailed around a bend in the river. It's elongated shadow a strange sight on the sand. Behind it, stirred by the keel water, the sand dropped away, leaving the water dirty. Gradually, the silt settled.

Firnen let out a roar.

After a few seconds of frantic bustling aboard the ship a saphire colored dragon launched it's self into the air. A stream of memories hit Arya like only a stream of memories can. Even though elves are not known to cry, unseen, trears flowed down her cheeks. As the Dragons glided closer. Arya was able distinguish the rider, it was Eragon.

The dragons both curved their flight drawing closer to one another.

"Don't fall." Arya warned Desket.

Then she unbuckled her leg straps and leaped onto Saphira. Her legs were stiff from the time spent in the saddle and she stumbled upon landing. Eragon nearly fell out of his saddle in the effort to steady her and then they embraced.

"What have I gotten myself into." Wondered Deksket as Firnen looped through the air. Roaring joyfully he bathed the horizon in green fire.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thoughts and Memories**

It had been three days since Saphira, Eragon and the elves that had chosen to accompany them had set off on their journey. They had sailed for three days on the useful but not at all ugly ship,(classic elvish build) down the river Edda. Eragon was still in a foul mood at the seeming unfairness of his situation. What annoyed him nearly as much his predicament was that with the help of Saphira he was stopping him self from doing anything about it. He looked up form his musings and peered over at Sahpira who was flanking the ship from a distance.

Eragon looked out over the unremarkable landscape and his thoughts swam back into the past. It had been three days since he had left Arya, Roran and Oric, they were the only people he considered to be true friends that had emerged on the other side of the war against Galbatorix with their lives. At that point Eragon heard a slight cough through his mental link with Saphira.

"You are a dragon, Saphira." He said with a rye smile. "I know." She said proudly. "But that does not mean I am also not a person as well" There was a subtle warning in her thoughts, so subtle in fact that Eragon wondered if She wanted him to miss it. He decided to walk on the side of caution and carefully replied. "Why Saphira of course you are a person, I would never have doubted it." Saphira seemed moderately satisfied with this and glided further away from the ship in search for food.

Eagon got lost in his own thoughts again.

Saphira, who had apparently been listening, interjected. "Little one, you have also left everyone who would have made your life miserable." "Don't try to be philosophical about this, I am not easily confused. Leaving my enemies and leaving all the responsibilities that came from pledging my allegiance to three of Alagaesia's most powerfull leaders- Saphira coughed again. "Galbatorix was not a real leader, he was a tyrant." Said Eragon with forced patiance.

"Never mind, carry on."

"Saphira will you please stop interrupting me!"

"As you wish."

"Right. So, where was I? Leaving all that does _not _compensate for leaving the place where I have grown up and the people that I have..." He trailed off. Nothing more needed to be said. They continued on down the Edda.


	8. Chapter 8

**F****ood**

"Will you dine with us, Argetlam?" Asked Blodgarm.

"Yes, thank you." Replied Eragon.

It had been a while since they had left Alagaesia but Eragon had failed to notice any specific difference. Somehow he had expected something more... The stars were not brighter, the moon was not larger, there was a distinct lack of lush vegetation. Saphira found Eragon's vague disappointment fiendishly amusing. But now Eragon was slowly starting to accept that this land was just more of the place he had been born in. So to speak.

The sun was just approaching it's peak in the sky, and although there was a breeze, it was getting quite hot on the ship's wooden deck. Eragon was grateful for the opportunity to retreat downstairs into the dining room. Technically Eragon could go where he pleased aboard the ship, the thing was that the elves had left him alone on the deck out of courtesy because they were aware that he wanted to be by himself. Eragon could easily go flying with Saphira if he wanted some time to himself but he was thankful for their gesture nevertheless. Blodgarm and the others only came on the deck occasionally during the day, and when they did come up no one disturbed him.

The only time when they had any major interaction was when Eragon approached one of them directly or during meals, of which there where three during the day. His surroundings darkened as Blodgarm led him down the winding steps. When they got to the bottom of the stairs they turned left toward the candle-lit dining room. The elves were all sitting around the large rectangular table waiting for him to join them before they started to eat. Eragon shivered as they all turned to look at him, as he carefully made his way to the other side of the room, squeezing past the backs of their chairs and bending forward to avoid the sloped wall behind him, the brief silence was only perforated by an occasional creak from the hull.

There where various dishes in pots running the length of the table, cooked vegetables peas, mashed potatoes, sliced cucumbers, and thick slices of bread. For the first time Eragon noticed that he was hungry. He sat down, took a bite of the food, and everyone began to eat. Across the table from Eragon some of the male elves struck up a conversation with Blodgarm. Eragon noticed that all the elven women where sitting on his side of the table.

He felt a twinge of awkwardness and concentrated on his peas. For a second Eragon thought that he heard chuckles coming form the group of previously silent Eldunari which where stored aboard the ship and concealed with magic. Eragon inspected his peas with even greater concentration What was going on? He asked himself. Eragon had known these elves for close to a year, there was no reason to feel uncomfortable around them. And yet.. He looked up and cursed his thrice blasted hormones. Through his mental link with Saphira, Eragon felt her annoyance as she spooked a dear she had been stalking a sudden fit of laughter.

Eragon now shared her annoyance and, gathering up his courage, he made up his mind. He was going to ask one of the elven women for an extra helping of mashed potatoes with out blushing or stumbling over his words or getting any weird twinges. That would show all these dragons what was what, that was the plan. Eragon had suffered terrible ordeals and had fought in multiple battles, he had even defeated Galbatorix.

It turned out that this was not enough. By that time he was so charged up that he asked the question In a voice he would have normally used when speaking to a large crowd. What made it worse was that most of the elves only gave him a brief glance before continuing on with what they were doing. Only the elf he had been talking too made any move to help him out. She smiled at him, nodded and gave him the potatoes. He scooped some onto his plate and looked back at the elf. She had already started talking to somebody else and Eragon had to call out her name in order to get her attention She winked at him as she took the pot from his slightly damp hands. Eragon spent the rest of the diner eating his mashed potatoes and generally staring at his plate.

He had never had this problem before with girls, except with Arya of course. When he was with the Varden, Fighting in the war, he had conveniently avoided these situations because every third day he needed to fight a couple of soldiers or magicians to the death. And when he was not doing that, he was either studying, training or sleeping. Now that it was all over he was getting a much fuller taste of life. Much to the amusement of everyone present.

As dinner finished Eragon hurriedly helped to clear up the table and nearly sprinted upstairs to have a serious chat with Saphira about her laughing at him.


	9. Chapter 9

**And So It Begins**

It was the morning after the awkward dinner and Eragon had mostly gotten over his, well, awkward feelings. He was sitting on a stack of large wooden crates positioned on the prow of the ship. He watched the world come to life as the sun rose. Saphira was swimming in the river ahead of the ship, according to herself she was very good at swimming, even for a dragon she hardly made any noise. A faint mist surrounded the ship and partially obscured Saphira's head and neck which were the only parts of her body above the water.

Eragon felt good, although he hadn't fully accepted parting ways with Arya, and he suspected that he never would. Besides, his natural curiosity about the road ahead was growing. Eragon had spent days aboard the elvan ship and he was beginning to get restless. Would it hurt if he went and did a little exploring? For a minute Eragon debated whether he should go downstairs to get Brisingr but he decided that this would be pointless. He suspected that the elves were still in asleep below the deck in their rooms, and he saw no reason in disturbing their slumber. He didn't particularly want to run into one of them after yesterday. Anyways, Eragon was pretty certain that If he and Saphira ran across some trouble, they would probably find that they had accidentally obliterated it when they stopped and looked back. They had defeated Galbatorix after all.

"Saphira? Would you like to fly a bit?"

"This water is very comfortable, besides I have flown the whole day yesterday."

"I now you want to..."

After a sufficient pause Saphira agreed to go.

Eragon grabbed the thick jacket which lay on a crate beside him and jumped down to the deck, landing as quietly as he could so as not to disturb the elves. He tiptoed along the planks to the side of the ship were Saphira was waiting for him.

Eragon looked down. "You have a lot of spikes..."

"I know." She replied with great satisfaction. Eragon planned his jump carefully so as to lessen his chances of getting impaled, and jumped.

They soared high above the quickly receding mist and were the first ones to greet the new dawn. Wind rushed past Eragon's face. "This is great!" he yelled. They flew on like this for a long time until the sun was high in the sky and the last of the mist was gone. Just as Erago was getting comfortable with flying again after his long stay on the ship, Saphira asked. "How do you feel about a few loops?" "Alright, but not too fast, remember that I am not in a saddle." Said Eragon

Eragon hugged Saphira's sides and gripped her neck spikes as the rest of the world went mad flipping this way and that. After a while Saphira leveled out and let out a joyous roar. "That wasn't so bad was it, Eragon?"

Eragon gritted his teeth "No, it was actually pretty enjoyable." Saphira let out burst of fire from her jaws. "Good, because I wanted to show you some new maneuvers that I have been practicing!"

After thirty more minutes of being mercilessly thrust back into flying, (there was no room for mercy amid all of Saphira's enthusiasm) Eragon pointed out to her that some of the elves had stepped out on to the deck and were watching them. You said that you wanted to do some exploring away from the ship, little one, you should tell them. They might consider it discourteous if you go flying off without saying anything." So saying Saphira tilted her body, flapped her wings a couple times and started to glide in a long slow arc that Eragon estimated would bring them within thirty feet of the ship. "What do think I should tell them?" asked Eragon. Saphira regarded the elves "Tell them you want to go exploring and ask when you should be back."

"I'm not a child asking his parents if he go play at his friend's farm!" Exclaimed Eragon. "You are still a hatchling to me, Eragon. But you are probably right, usually the smaller two-legs-round-ears say that." Eragon sighed, he could see that he was going to have to come up with something to tell the elves by himself. Then he saw that the elf who had made his ears catch fire at dinner yesterday was among those who were watching. This time the sight of her turned Eragon's mind into a really disastrous shipwreck. Eragon did his best to salvage what thoughts he could and called out in a hoarse voice "Bye...I'm going.. I'll.. but.. I'll be back of course... See you!"

When Saphira curved away from the river and the elves could no longer see him Eragon screwed his eyes shut and started banging his head on the closest of Saphira's neck spikes.

The river receded into the distance as Saphira flew out to the side, but at a slight angle so a to keep up with the ship.

"I see that you are getting over your parting with Arya." Commented Saphira. "No! That's not true." Said Eragon angrily. The truth was that even if his feelings for Arya changed over time, Eragon would never admit it.

Saphira persisted. "Then how do you explain your embarrassment in front of the pointy-ears-woman." "I don't know! Alright." Exclaimed Eragon and then added in a softer voice. "Right now I just want to fly with you and explore this wilderness and not think about these things. Every thing will resolve it's self in the end."

They glided over the countryside in silence for a while.

There was really nothing special to explore, no unknown plant or animal life could be seen. Grasses, coarse shrubs and the occasional tree covered the land. Closer to the ground the air was hot and it smelt of dry shrubs and grasses. Saphira liked it, but Eragon was getting increasingly thirsty. He had almost exhausted the small water-skin which hung on his belt.

They saw a few grey dear moving in between the vegetation and a couple more resting under some of the shrubs. They blended in extremely well and Eragon suspected that he had missed some. He could, of course, reach out with his mind and almost instantaneously know the thoughts and positions of all the living creatures for miles around. Eragon refrained from doing this just because he didn't like to do it. He couldn't pinpoint why, it was just a general discomfort with the whole idea.

They were flying farther and farther from the river and it had just disappeared over the horizon. But they were content to let the up drafts carry them where they liked. Saphira started to say something and stopped short as a figure emerged from a slight dip in the land. Saphira pointed it out to Eragon. He could hardly contain his surprise and he yelled her name. "Angela!?"


	10. Chapter 10

"What are you doing here?" Asked Eragon, almost rudely. Angela was working on the many complicated knots that tied her elaborate arrangement of traveling bags together. "I might ask myself the same question." She said as she continued to unpack her belongings.

Eragon looked around for something to say but there wasn't much around to inspire conversation. Waist high sun-baked shrubs surrounded the clearing. Eragon could hear the lazy drone of insects as they meandered through the dense, hot air.

Saphira who was crouched on the on the dusty ground beside Eragon said. "Eragon are you blind as well as a disgrace to the riders? Offer to help Angela to unpack her bags!"

This came as a shock to Eragon, who he had been caught up in the strange serenity of the place. "Can I help you with those tent poles?" He asked.

It was a while later, together Angela and Eragon had set up the tent. Now as the evening was drawing closer they sat around a small fire which Saphira had proudly started and exchanged stories. Actually It was Eragon who did most of the talking, Angela corrected him occasionally, for example, at such instances as when Eragon forgot to tell her about the potato incident. Eragon didn't ask how she knew, he felt that there were certain things you didn't ask Angela. He told her about his trip and his parting from Arya and even about some of his most private thoughts. He felt safe in her presence, much more so than with the elves with whom he had spent the whole trip.

When Eragon Asked Anglea what she had been doing she applauded him for his general bravery and then changed the subject. All he could get out of her was that she was going to see some king.

They sat a while longer while Saphira stretched out on the hot ground and hummed contentedly. Eragon had started to poke around in the fire with a small stick for something to do. As he was maneuvering one end around in the hot coals, trying without much success to improve their positioning, he inadvertently struck his water skin with the other end. It made a hollow thud. "I think that needs some refilling, or would you prefer some herbal tea?" Asked Angela.

"You must be short on water as it is." Said Eragon. "I couldn't possibly ask you for any when I can extract it from the ground." Angela gave a long pause, "Be that as it may, you are still welcome to have a cup of tea if you wish. Besides, It is getting quite hot out side lets go in and maybe I can scry Arya for you. You told me that you couldn't do it, I am probably a much better scryer than you. In the mean time you can haul a large bowl of water up to the surface with magic, you said you could do it."

Sweat poured off Eragon as he strained to pull up any stray moisture to the surface, even with his elvan strength and the help of Saphira he was finding this difficult. "There must be even less water here than in the Hadarac desert." He gasped.

Eragon bowed his head over the scrying bowl, it got darker, Eragon straitened, the water got lighter again, he sighed, "This isn't working."

Face like someone with the plague, Eragon sat down heavily on some rolled up blankets.

"This is why you shouldn't get false hopes." Counselled Angela.

"Why can't you reach her?" Asked Eragon, A hint of worry in his voice. Angela poured the water from the bowl into a small pot and proceeded to walk outside. Eragon followed her. "Nothing to worry about Eragon, the distance is probably just to great." "It as worth a try though and now we have some water for herbal tea.

They talked some more while Eragon sipped his surprisingly delicious tea. As soon as he was done, though Angela ushered him off.

"O Look! The sun is getting low. I think you should best be heading back, Eragon. The elves will be anxious to see your return." She gave him a conspiratorial wink.

Eragon Scowled as much a he dared, which admittedly wasn't very much and bade Angela good-bye. This time he remembered his manners and said a proper good-bye. As Saphira took off he cried out, "Sé onr sverda sitja hvass!" "May your sword stay sharp!" But curiously, when Angela returned the traditional farewell Eragon turned beet red. "I'm gonna have to do something about this." Thought Saphira."

Chuckling to herself, Angela returned to the tent. She rummaged around a bit, sorting through the multitude of bags, which, to her mind, were neatly arranged in a big pile. Nature naturally piled things up in piles. She thought. "It was the perfect shape. It's..." She realized that she was side tracking her self and started arranging the bags more neatly around the inside of the tent. She found one labeled "maps". "A-Ha!" She started to sort through it,"Teirm, no." "Tronjheim... no." That had been a tricky one though, she had to admit. Angela had made that one herself on one of her first visits to the place. She had gotten directions on how to get to the King's kitchens from an elderly dwarf. The dwarf had also been partially blind. As a result she had gotten hopelessly lost inside the mountain. Knowing the law of the universe in such situations, namely, "You shall not find the way to the kitchens until you have tried every other way multiple times." Angela had decided to make the most of her situation and, from her wanderings inside the city, she had drawn the most detailed map of Tronjheim to date. At least that was the story.

"Uru'baen, no." "New York, no, definitely not." "How did this get here?" She placed the map in a separate bag. "The castle of mad king Demrock, yes." As Angela carefully studied the map the orange circle of the sun sank slowly towards the reddening horizon. A small breeze was starting to blow, shifting the tent's entrance flaps and blowing a little reddish dust inside. Angela didn't notice, if she had she wouldn't have minded anyways. When it was getting to dark to see, Angela replaced the map in the proper sack and pulled a sleeping bag from another sack. It could get pretty cold here at night.

Angela stooped and got out of the tent, pushing the entrance flaps open with her hands. It was already noticeably cooler outside and the sun hadn't set five minutes ago. Previously lazy, the drone of insects had now died away completely. Angela looked up. Barley noticeable against the light blue sky a few faint specks of light could be seen, the first stars.

Angela thought that, in this type of environment where you didn't get much rain, nature compensated for not giving you the smell after rain with the atmosphere after sunset. It was magnificent.

She glanced at the dying fire and looked around for some trees. Angela noticed a dead tree outlined against the horizon not far from her camp and advanced towards it. Making her way around dry bushes, which would burn much too quickly to keep her warm during the night, she approached the bone dry tree. As she stood before it Angela realized that she had forgotten to bring the axe. Momentarily putting this fact aside, she gave the tree a thoughtful look and circled it twice. Then Angela put her ear to it and knocked on it's side.

Looking only slightly disappointed Angela gave the tree one last look, broke off some of the thinner branches, and headed back to the fire.


	11. Chapter 11

Eragon was sitting on wooden deck of the elven ship. It was early in the evening. He had told the elves about his chance meeting with Angela over dinner. They had received the news with their usual stoic courtesy. Eragon suspected that the elves regarded Angela as a bit of an idiot (very politely indeed but nevertheless an idiot.) He sighed and looked out over the landscape. He yawned, rested his back against a crate, and let the gentle rolling of the ship to lull him into a light sleep. The path ahead looked uneventful. No one expected anything unexpected to happen. Everything looked very ordinary. By all accounts something shocking and unexpected should have occurred at that very instant. But, for once, it looked like the expectations of this group of people would be validated. This is why I am drawing your attention to a land on the other side of the desert which Eragon was rapidly approaching. Nine thousand miles away, across the Great Desert (Not the Hadarac desert, the Great desert, the largest one in Eragon's world. About four times the size if you must ask.) there exists an ancient empire untouched by the riders. By pure coincidence they bury their noble dead in pyramids, much like the ancient Egyptians did in our world.

Moswen made her way along the wide road, it was already alive with street venders. She was walking toward the edge of the city where the king's high walled palace stood facing the desert and the two largest pyramids. It was almost an hour after dawn and Moswen was going to be late. Her first job was holding a parasol of the king's head to shield him from the morning sun as he got out of bed and walked along the corridor to the dining room. It had a lot of east facing windows and the king didn't like the sun in his eyes. "I need it more than he does" she muttered. Now a vender was trying to sell her something. Moswen angrily scuffed her very expensive shoe, (that was part of the kings servant's required garb,) on the dusty ground. Her parents had named her Moswen (meaning white) because of her unusually light skin tone, they tended to be blunt like that. The default explanation for her light skin was that the sacrificial chicken at her birth had been a bit senile and therefore hadn't relayed her families payers to the other world properly. She had her doubts about this theory. One night Moswen had overheard her parents talking about a trader with skin even lighter than Moswen's who had arrived almost a year before she had been born. Then there was the curious fact that Moswen's parents had been married a mere half year before she had been born. Some people still remembered the curious trader, and soon after her birth gossip had began to spread. Her neighbors and some family members gave her disdainful looks and ignored her more than was strictly necessary or polite. It was as if she was just a servant. Which, admittedly, she was, but not in her own house... Her friends would sometimes give her pitying looks, which was even worse. Still, she consoled her self with the idea that there were many, many people in this city who were worse off than her. She saw them every day.

Moswen was fifteen and was very lucky indeed, to be employed in the King's service. She sped up her already hurried footsteps, partly to loose the vender who was still following her in an impressive effort to sell her "Extremely magical bracelets." and partly because she was really was quite late. If she continued to show up a few minutes after the agreed time, every day, she could very well lose her job. One day the king might not sleep in and actually notice that she was late. Despite being hot from her rush to work Moswen shivered at the notion. It wasn't what her parents would do that worried her. If the king was in a bad mood he was known to administer quite severe punishments. Once, he had and an entire batalion of live Guards sealed inside a pyramid. The story went that one night five of them had been killed and the rest had been distracted by a palace cat with a rattle tied to it's tail. Needless to say the thief had escaped with the king's precious septar in hand.

The road grew less crowded. Moswen was finally approaching the edge of the city. Above the roofs of the one and two story houses the palace wall was coming into view. It was at least one and a half times the height of the cities tallest clay houses. The palace was a very large square complex surrounded by said wall. Unlike most of the architecture within the city the palace wall was built from the same type of stone that was used for building the pyramids. The blocks were smaller, of course.

Moswen reached an intersection. On the far side and to the left, the palace wall ran parallel to the street she was on. Moswen turned left in to the other street which was also ran parallel to wall. A group of beggars sat at the corner, resting their backs against the huge sandstone blocks. This was the north west corner and the sun rose in the East, the group of street dwellers used the wall like a giant sunshade. Moswen knew from experience that as the day wore on the beggars would migrate from corner to corner in order to avoid the heat. People willing to give them money could also be found on intersections. Morwen knew all of this and she had observed the group every day when she went to work.

Every day when she finished work she would exit though the main gate and glance back at the south-east corner of the wall (which was practically at the edge of the desert) just to check if the beggars were there. It was almost like a ritual. The migrating group was an integral part of the city. Now as Moswen rushed by she got the feeling that something was vaguely off about the group. The feeling was so vague though, that she wouldn't have be able to put her finger on it, even if it wasn't currently occupied by a nervous dance with all her other fingers. She was now almost at the servant's gates.

At the same moment, in the city that had been Urubaein, Nasuada was sorting through a stack of papers. It consisted mostly of complaint lettres which ranged from:

"I have a very adavansed knowlege of mathematics. And I have played your legal lottery exactly five hunderd times. And on the tickets it says "You have a one in five hundred chance of winning." Are you with me soo far? Well, if you play something that is one in five hundred, five hundered times It is in the same, _denenominator_, (this word seemed to have been written almost reverentially) as five hundred in five hundred, therefor one in one, therefore one hundred percent certainty of winning it. Clearly your lottery is riggged. I demand all my money back by tommorrow.

"sncerily, Martin."

To:

"My lady, I am a guard working on the night shift in your palace. When I try to have a little rest during the day, I am constantly disturbed by orders being shouted during the army's training exersises. Would you be so kind as to move the army's training to the early morning or some other time. Your humble servant."

"PS. I hope this isn't too much bother."

Nasuada called out to the messenger boy, who, she knew was stationed outside the door to her study. He walked in "What is it, your majesty." "Just some letters I want you to answer as I haven't the time for it. Nor the patience." The messenger smiled, in what he hoped was an understanding but not overly familiar fashion. Nasuada thought for a moment and then said. "Tell the lottery man that there has been a mistake and he had indeed won the latest lottery. This will be significantly more economical than refunding all his money or attempting to explain all of his errors to him.

As for the Guard. Have him reassigned his to the day shift, I have a feeling that he isn't getting enough sleep."

"Is that all, Lady Nasuada?"

"Yes, you may go."

Just as he was leaving. The Guard captain rushed in. Almost knocking the unfortunate lad over. "Lady Nasuada! I'm afraid the postman dropped one of the letters on his way here. Mind you, the lads had a good laugh at this one, ungrateful twit though he is."

Nasuada took the letter and addressed the captain as he turned to leave. "The next time the mailman "drops" a letter I want it taken straight to me. It would be disrespectful to keep our citizens waiting."

"Of course, Lady Nasuada."

Nasuada waited until he had left the room, leaned back in her chair, and started to read. This one seemed to be one of those single prompt school poems.

It was addressed "From a concerned parent."

What did Nasuada do for me?

To put it bluntly I preferred it when I tilled the fields.

Now I sit in school...

On a flat, angular, wooden stool...

My and I mates are expected

By my tutor respected

To write poems that rhyme

(an hour per dime)

About what you have done for us

So excuse me if this doesn't rhyme

My parents are short on dimes as it is

Why should I care about the circumference of a circle?

Nasuada, you have made my life difficult.

Why?

Why do you think that this is good for me.

Damn it Nasuada.

"PS. I assure you that he means no disrespect what so ever, I assure you. If this poem ever surfaces in the future please don't hold it against him."

Nasuada wondered not for the first time, why some of her subordinates wanted so badly to be the kings and queens instead of her.

Back on elven ship which sliced through the calm waters of the Edda river like a scolding knife through liquid butter Eragon stirred from his nap. "Did I miss anything?" He joked to Saphira. After a while his stomach rumbled "I'm going downstairs to a bread roll." Said Eragon as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and groggily walked to the trap door.


	12. Chapter 12

A Moment From Eragon's Travels.

Two farmers were chatting and standing around and generally having a break from farming as they let the dirt do some of the work for them. One of them looked up.

"Look Amerald! look!" Said Arald, pointing at the other end of the river "No I don't think I will. Remember last time you said that? You will just steal some of my potatoes again as I turn away." "No, Really. Look! There is a giant boat with a big pole in the center." "Your just pulling my leg." said Amerald. "Alright!" Said Arald in an exasperated tone. "Let me just get that nice potato behind you." Amerlad followed Arald with his eyes and made to block him before he crossed over to Amerald's potato patch. Just before Amerald lunged however, something caught his eye. "My word..."

Overnight the ship had sailed far, and the formerly monotonous scenery had changed into something between hills and mountains. These continually got bigger as the river pulled the ship along. Saphira was flying some ways ahead of the ship looking for fish or some bigger morsels. Eragon stood at the prow of the ship, a strong breeze ruffled his hair and clothes. He felt more at home than he had one in weeks. This reminded him of the spine. Today, perhaps sparked by the change in his surroundings he was glad to be leaving Alegaisia and it's complicated politics, wars, and cruelty behind. He felt confident that given time he could create a better life for Saphira, himself and his fellow elves. A flicker of a thought flashed between his others, Arya. She didn't deserve to be left behind. Tears welled up in his eyes. After all that she had been through... He would have gone back for her then and there except, except... Eragon looked around blinking to clear his vision. There was really nothing to stop him. He gripped the railing. The wood gave a few ominous cracks, he let it go. It was just unfair, everything was unfair.

"For Guntera's sake, Eragon. Get a grip on your self. This is life. Nothing is going to change if you don't do anything about the things that bother you." Exclaimed Saphira. Then she added. "I have a fish, do you want it?"

Eragon didn't consider this. "Sure." He said. A fried fish was a fried fish, after all.

"Alright Eragon, I will fly over the ship and drop it down to you. Just make sure that _you_ don't drop it!"Warned Saphira.

"You know, I could just use magic to float the fish over to me..."Said Eragon.

"Where is the fun in that?"Stated Saphira.

"Are you ready, Eragon?"

"Hold on a second. Let me just cross to the center of the deck, alright."

A crushing Idea had just occurred to Eragon.

"Saphira?"

"Yes, little one?"

"How big is this fish?"

"About as long a one of my claws. Why?"

"O, It's nothing of importance, I was just curious."

"Eragon?"

"What?"

"The Mashed potatoes Elf woman has just come out onto the deck from the hatch behind you. Would you still like me to drop the fish? You could very well impress her by catching the fish without magic."

"Saphira, do not drop the fish."

Eragon swallowed and attempted to look casual as he searched his mind for something to say.

Blodgarm, who had just emerged from the trap door wondered why Eragon was standing in the center of the deck, legs and elbows slightly bent, kind of bobbing around, as if testing the floor. Eragon seemed to be looking off a random angles and bobbing his head as well.

Blodgarm had wanted to talk to Eragon about the journey ahead, but now he thought he probably shouldn't disturb Eragon from whatever he was doing. It was as he turned to leave that Eragon said, without turning around, "What a nice view we have today, my lady."

Eragon then turned around. Panic fired his brain into action. "Good day Blodgarm... I was just thinking out loud. I mean practicing .. for when I meet a lady. That is if I will meet a lady... Just in case. "

"I will leave you to it then, Argetlam." Said Blodgarm and he returned below deck.

"Saphira!"

"What? They all look alike. It was an easy mistake."

"Alright, alright, now give me that fish."

Saphira tossed the fish down to Eragon. He caught it.


	13. Chapter 13

**An unlikely bridge.**

Even though he had flying through these unfamiliar mountains for the last half hour, Eragon hadn't bothered to put up a ward against the snowflakes. This was his third day in what a dwarf would have described as the "Heart of the mountains."

Prompted by a steady narrowing and speeding up of the Edda, Eragon had proposed to scout the path ahead with Saphira. She was perfectly capable of going by herself, but the mission could take her outside the range at which they could sense each other. Also, this region was far beyond any map that Alagaesia could offer. Eragon and the elves had argued this point much more vigorously than Saphira. In fact they had to convince her that she should not do this alone. Of course none of the elves had directed their comments directly at Saphira, who had sat and waited with one eyelid closed while Eragon was barraged with the elves requests. After what she considered to be a polite interval to let the elves make their point, but before Eragon could begin to relay all this to her, (as a cutesy in front of the elves.) She had said "Then I agree." to the elves in her most placating tones. For Eragon's benefit, Saphira let out an impatient huff of hot air through her nostrils. Seeing his opportunity had Eragon made his best "I'm sorry, but I really have to get going." Face, mixed with a "Just look at the dragon!" Expression, and quickly climbed on to Saphira.

It was exhilarating to feel the full force of the elements again, after being cooped up on the ship for weeks. Saphira flew fast through the massive canyon above the river,. She twisted this way and that to avoid the sharp granite crags at every turn in the river. Wind, partially from Saphira's speed and partially form the mountain weather rushed passed Eragon's face. It made his eyes water and his ears sting from the cold. Below them the river snaked it's self though the mountains making sharp turns. But never did it make a turn so sharp of become so narrow as to make it impossible to travel for the ship and it's skilled crew.

"How are you doing little one?"Asked Saphira, after another twenty minutes of this.

"I'm still holding on, but I would appreciate it if you could find a place to land for a while. Seeing as we are not pressed for time I would like to rest for a while and have something to eat and drink." Answered Eragon.

After a few more minutes of flying they saw something incredible. There was a dark shape emerging from a cloud bank ahead of them. When they glided nearer they saw that it was a gigantic stone bridge. It spanned the gap between both walls of the cleft about four hundred feet above the river. It curved slightly upwards and was narrower in the center than at the sides.

"You were saying that you wanted a place to land. It seems like the gods have a peculiar sense of humor." Commented Saphira.

"What could it be?" Asked Eragon, awe clear in his voice.

"It's a bridge, Eragon."

"Yes, I know! But what is if for?"

"Eragon..."

"Yes, thank you Saphira, I am well aware of what bridges are for. I was just wondering why anybody would need one _here_." Explained Eragon.

Saphira circled closer to the bridge, it was flat at the top with no hand holds of any kind.

"Do you think it will support my weight?" Asked Saphira. Without waiting for a reply she added "Just in case, I don't think I will land in the center."

Eragon sensed her excitement stemming from the challenging landing ahead. She was now within a hundred feet of the bridge. Now she was less than fifty feet from the bridge. She executed an almost imperceptible downward swoop, fractionally picking up speed. She was now thirty feet from the bridge as-well as slightly below it. Saphira adjusted the angle of her wings and swooped upwards slowing down markedly. After a brief moment of weightlessness when Eragon's body fully expected to start moving down again, his eyes alerted him to the fact that Saphira was standing on the bridge. Such was the skill of her landing.

"Stop right there!" The voice came from the other side of the bridge.

Eragon drew Brisingr. Whoever had spoken was still obscured by mist.

"This is perfect!" Exclaimed the voice, which Eragon now made out to be female. "What do you want?" Shouted Eragon.

"Just stay there! I will cross over to the center of the bridge. You wouldn't mind breathing some fire, would you Saphira?"

The mist shifted and revealed Angela standing at the center of the bridge. Even Saphira froze for a moment.

"I'm sorry if it's too much trouble." She continued "But it would mean a lot to me if I could get a chance to do this."

Earagon glanced at Saphira, who gave a mental shrug. "Saphira opened her mouth wide, showing all of her fearsome teeth, and let out a torrent of searing flame.

Angela started to shout something. "YOU SHALL!-" But strong gust obscured the rest of her sentence.

Angela then crossed over to Eragon.

"How do you do that?" Asked Eragon. His voice a little shrill with amazement.

"It's all in the breathing. You see, most people-"

"No. I meant, how do you keep showing up like that." Explained Eragon. "And don't tell me it's all in the herbs!"

"You wouldn't believe me If I told you. So I won't tell you." Angela said plainly. "Shall we get back to your ship?" She asked, looking up at Saphira. "I know this river well. And I can tell you that there are no major obstacles for a ship that size on the way out of the mountains."

"In fact if you maintain your speed, you should be clear of these mountains in no more than three days." Angela stated.

And so it was that Saphira and Eragon arrived back on the ship with an extra passenger who was also an old friend.


	14. Chapter 14

**Successfully**** Saved**

"How do you plan to find Eragon? Asked Desket.

"If you don't mind me asking."

"No, we should come upon the Edda river when we cross these mountains. As I am sure you know he is sailing this way on the Edda. Since we will almost certainly be ahead of him I will wait by the river." With that she resumed her stolid silence.

Later that day Desket and Firnen exchanged riddles while Arya looked out across the snowy mountains, at the edge of sight a faint band of yellow had come into view.

"It has been around for eons, but it's never more than a month old. What is it?" Asked Desket

"Hhmm... The common house fly? Chanced Firnen.

"No! It's the moon, the moon has been around for eons but it gets reborn every month."

"What is it that you will break even as you name it?" Asked Firnen, a sly glint in his eyes. "Silence." Was Desket's prompt reply.

Arya companionably patted Firnen on his wing.

There was a long pause while all Desket heard was the whistling of the air as his ears rushed past it. The band of yellow was transforming into the edge of what was clearly a desert.

Seeming suddenly invigorated Firnen asked his next riddle.

What is hot and dry and has no clouds in sight. What has no eyes. Where, are there dunes of sand? What is this land?

"Ha! That was the easiest riddle I have ever heard, it's the desert." Said Desket.

"No, it is home.'' Answered Firnen.

They all gazed at it.

Underneath Firnen, the mountains already seemed less imposing, winter no longer stayed here year round. The sun was already low in the horizon when Firnen left the mountains behind; it's nearly horizontal rays cast his shadow far across the darkening sand dunes. He would have continued if not for a slight change in the air.

"There is water beneath me.'' Said a surprised Firnen.

He circled over the unseen river again. "Are you sure?" asked Arya.

"Yes."

Eragon had gotten up this morning to see that he was finally reaching the edge of the mountains. Now as the sun neared the horizon all the ship's passengers could see, beyond the last defiant foot hills, a strip of yellow, nearly orange dunes.

They were all (with the exception of Saphira, who was lying coiled around the mast) standing at the prow of the ship. It was then that the elf who Eragon would always remember as the one who had passed him the mashed potatoes at the awkward dinner, spoke up. "Eragon, follow the river with your eyes."

He did and suddenly noticed that it stopped at the edge of the desert.

Angela, who was leaning back in her chair and smoking a pipe, her legs crossed over the wooden railing at the prow. Shook her head and took the pipe out of her mouth. "I wouldn't worry about that. Straight as the river she goes."

As if on cue a tall ship sailed around a bend in the river. It's elongated shadow a strange sight on the sand. Behind it, stirred by the keel water, the sand dropped away, leaving an expanding wedge of river behind it. Gradually, the silt settled.

Firnen let out a roar.

After a few seconds of frantic bustling aboard the ship a Sapphire colored dragon launched it's self into the air. A stream of memories hit Arya like only a stream of memories can. Even though elves are not known to cry, unseen, tears flowed down her cheeks. As the Dragons glided closer. Arya was able distinguish the rider, it was Eragon.

The dragons both curved their flight drawing closer to one another.

"Don't fall!" Eragon heard Arya cry at a boy who was on the dragon, Firnen!

Then she unbuckled her leg straps and leaped onto Saphira. She stumbled a little, even riders who had flown with their dragons for decades and had done regular stretches did not just jump off their dragons and straight into a melee after a long flight in the uncomfortable saddle. Eragon nearly fell out of his own saddle in the effort to steady her. Then they embraced.

It all happened so quickly for Eragon. One moment he was standing on the ship and the next moment the woman of his dreams had rapped her arms around him.

Indistinctly, Eragon noticed a roar and jet of emerald fire.

* * *

><p>Author's not going to end this story now: Sorry about the long wait. School. Hopefully I will be able to type up the next chapter this weekend because I don't have any homework that I actually <em>have<em> to do.

Thanks for your fantastic reviews.


	15. Chapter 15

**Dying Schemes**

Eragon, Arya, Angela and Blodgharm were sitting at the prow of the ship, deep in discussion about what they should do next.

"Look. Do you see a river?" Asked Angela. "No, and this, as I've already explained, is exactly why we must turn back." Said Blodghram. "For we have not yet found a place suitable to train the next generation of dragon riders. The river is seeping into the ground. The desert is quenching it's never ending thirst with the murky waters of the Edda. We cannot continue."

"There is no need to get all poetic about it." Said Angela, her expression struck Eragon as being remarkably similar to the face Oromis had made in response to Eragon's first few cooking attempts. An expression of great pity and badly concealed distaste. "Water usually tends to seep into dry sand. And as for the next generation of riders, well, who actually needs them anymore?"

Blodgharm started to say something but Arya put her hand on his shoulder. Stopping him in his tracks, as much because of her status as because of his surprise at her action.

Turning back to Angela, Arya said, in a reasonable voice. "What do you suggest we do with all the remaining dragon eggs? And besides, this is not the matter at hand. We need to decide whether we will turn back and sail upstream along the river or if we should push on through the desert. As formidable as the strength of the eldunari may be, their magic wouldn't last more than three days if they tried to push this ship against the current of the river. Unless we want to train the next generation of riders in the mountains I suggest we cross the desert."

Eragon, seeing a way out, said. "What If some of us stayed here and some went on a small expedition with Firnen and Saphira to determine the size of this desert. Just to see if it would be possible for us to make the crossing on foot."

It was quickly agreed that this was the best option. And Eragon's heart leaped when Arya smiled at him.

Desket, who had not been part of the conversation but had instead been listening to the deliberations on the stern from behind a couple crates, immediately decided that he was going on this mission into the desert. It might be his only chance to escape from these crazy war veterans. Desket had long ago come to the conclusion that he was in far over his head.

With his back resting against one of the crates, while another one kept his feet from sliding forward, Desket wondered how he could convince these people to let him go with them. A thin sliver of direct sunlight had managed to pass through the multitude of crates sounding him. As he thought it slowly traveled from his feet along his shins and past his raised knees. Hot dry air hovered all around him, he could feel that it emanated from the desert side of the river but it seemed to be stubbornly ignoring all his personal efforts to move it with his hands. Desket looked up through a gap in the crates and saw the sun. He sighed because that's what you do in these circumstances. Desket stood up, got slightly light headed and used a crate to his left to steady himself. He then did a pretty uneventful one-eighty and sat down in the same fashion but facing in the opposite direction. Now the sun was on his knees again.

Just then, through a gap between the crates, Desket saw two figures kissing. He quickly made a disgusted face and looked away as was customary with boys his age throughout the multi-verse. But in the second or so, during which he could still blame his hesitation on slow reaction time or great surprise Desket noted that the two figures were most definitively Eragon and Arya.

A few seconds passed. Then an idea occurred to Desket. He peeked though the gap again and screwed up his face. Yep they were still... "Alright, good." Thought Desket, this was after all, a vital part of his plan. Desket carefully got up, trying to make as little noise as possible. Slowly, he made his way out from between the crates and toward the open part of the deck where he had seen Eragon and Arya. Desket felt a little bad for doing this, but the rush you get from actually going though with crazy, hair-brained schemes was upon him. He couldn't turn back now. This was the type of thing, if it went according to plan, that he was going to be secretly proud of until his dying day. If it didn't go to plan, well... He might not get to do much living anyway. With the knowledge that, if his plan went south, his soul would probably be right on it's heels, he tiptoed onto the silent deck.

Desket took few steps and carefully tripped over a box. He fell with as much noise as possible but kept his eyes on the two embracing figures.

Everything seemed to be in order. Eragon and Arya jerked apart guiltily. They seemed to be prepared to offer him anything in return for his silence on their recent activities. But then it all went wrong. Not as wrong as Desket had feared, but nearly. Arya and Eragon faded into the air. Someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"I see that you are determined on coming with us." said Eragon. Arya was standing beside him. She seemed to be smiling in an effort to keep from laughing at Desket's expression. After a few seconds she managed to mouth "sorry" to a flabbergasted Desket. It is important to note that the difficulty with which Arya controlled her mirth casts a distinct shadow on modern interrogation techniques. Suffering doesn't tend to make people open up. This is just another reason why Galbatorix had been defeated.

"And since you are so determined." Continued Eragon "Well, we don't see why you shouldn't come with us. Just get up well before dawn tomorrow, we plan to leave before the worst of the heat sets in."


	16. Chapter 16

**Above the Dunes**

Two dragons, one blue one green, glided effortlessly above the great expanse below. The sun was high in the sky and there were no clouds in sight. The air rushing past the travelers was cool because of their altitude. It had quickly gotten so hot down below that every one but the dragons had opted to risk slight altitude sickness and not endure the heat. It was lucky for them that they had the majority because Firnen and Saphira had really enjoyed the baking air.

Arya flew on Firnen with Desket sitting in front of her. This way she could keep an eye on him and keep him from falling off. She did this more out of habit than out of necessity seeing as Desket had seen fit to secure his legs to Firnen's neck spikes with an elaborate but easily removable series of ropes and bow knots.

Despite it's monotony the flight was very pleasant. For some reason, maybe it was because things looked so bright and wonderful that Desket felt totally at ease. His body was relaxed and happy to be doing nothing much really. But his mind was free to wonder and be in wonder of his surroundings. Desket enjoyed this moment so much in fact that he felt a compulsion to give something back to the world as a thank you. And because he thought that when he got old and started to forget things he would want something tangible to remember his feelings by Desket started to compose a poem. As these things go, it didn't go quite to plan.

Sky blue, sun bright,

The dragons glitter with reflected light,

The air is warm but the sand does bite,

It flies straight at us, as if looking for a fight,

The dragons, burning bright, they seem each to be like a giant deformed kite,

Saphira is giving me a look alright,

Pupils dark as night,

"Alight! Alright! Sorry..." ...Alright",

"Sorry!"

Teeth as menacing as-,

"Yes? That's better, ok. Sorry about the kite simile and compulsive rhyming... Yes I'll continue my poem then. Of course, you are _right."_

"What was that? ...My ear muffs are very tight."

Ooooooo! What magnificent fire blue!

Nice wards too...

The air is warm but the sand does bite.

Let's just leave it there, alright?


	17. Chapter 17

**Among the Dunes**

Saphira descended in wide loops towards the half lit dunes below. Eragon marveled at the play of light over the ancient but ever-changing waves of sand. He could feel Angela's arm around his waist. It wasn't that she was overly concerned about falling. It was just that if Angela ever found herself on an exhilarating horse chase she would have screamed Yeehaaaaaa!

Earlier that day Desket had accidentally annoyed Saphira greatly. Her biggest flaws were her great pride and her refusal to consider pride as a flaw. This was a quality that Eragon couldn't help but admire a bit. Despite all of his achievements there were always numerous times when Eragon doubted himself. They werent always humorous. The infamous potato incident was a prime example of one of those times.

Even though Eragon had been a dragon rider for longer than Arya; she, Firnen, and Desket still seemed to be leading the expedition. A few hours into the flight, Saphira had commented to Eragon about how Firnen always kept slightly ahead of her. Now, as they flew down into one of the small valleys, Saphira swallowed her pride and let the eager Firnen lead the descent.

During the flight they had discussed the possible outcomes of their mission. Whether on not they would manage to reach the other side of the desert was the main topic. Angela and Saphira were of the opinion that they would. Eragon, Firnen and Arya were unsure. Desket stated that he doubted very much if their company had much chance of crossing this arid wasteland. (In the hope that this would lend some excitement to the debate.)

Saphira landed almost noiselessly, the sand cushioned her bulk with barely a swish. The valley between the dunes was already shaded and only the top of the eastward dune was lit by the sun. The sky was perfectly clear except for a falcon circling at the edge of sight.

The day before they had left, one of the big wooden crates had been opened and four light, canvas tents had been removed. The elves had insisted that the company lug along two bigger honorary tents for Firnen and Saphira but the dragons had made it clear that they thought the elves must be dimwits.

The gully they had landed in was about fifty feet across (thirty Alagaisian forearms) beyond that the sides of the dunes began to curve sharply upwards. The space in between sill had a bit of a curve to it though. So, in order to sleep in relative comfort they all had to set their tents up in a line down the center of the dip.

Although, in their own way, all these people were great individuals, (All of them including Desket had accomplished great things But that's another story.) out of all of them Angela was the only one who managed to set up her tent in a timely fashion. All the others had to sit down while fiddling with different pieces of the tent and trying to figure out how it would all fit together. They could have used magic. The reason why they didn't was because use there was really nothing else to do. When you are faced with thousands of miles of unchanging desert you tend to either stare a one spot for hours on end or do lots of little things to keep yourself amused.

About half an hour later the desert falcon had flown off. The sun had fully sunk below the horizon. And a myriad stars spanned the black polyester of the sky. A glowing sphere created by magic illuminated the inside of each tent, making them look like fireflies. They floated or bobbed at the peaks of the tents, depending on the air currents. Everybody except for the two dragon riders and their dragons was inside their tents sleeping or reading and generally settling down. Eragon and Arya sat somewhere off to the side of the camp. Both riders and dragons were just happy to finally be in each others company. Saphira and Firnen seemed to be enjoying the lingering warmth of the sand, although it was cooling quickly. Though it didn't appear to bother the dragons at all, Eragon and Arya were both surprised by the marked fall in temperature after sunset.

After a while Eragon suggested that they retire to the warmth of their tents for the night. Of course it was not as simple as that. (As is often the case with social interactions where you really care about the other person.) Describing this scene more carefully might help you understand Arya and Eragon's relationship a little better. First they got cold, then Eragon shifted his foot a little. He didn't want to suggest that they return to the tents because he didn't want to ruin the moment or give the impression that he would like to be somewhere else. Which was definatly not the case. He was concerned about Arya getting cold. She sensed this and rubbed her arms for warmth. This left Eragon free to say "It's getting cold, we should be getting back." All this happened within a second or two.

Eragon was lying on his back in his tent it had been a long, strenuous day and he felt pretty tired. The makeshift bed felt hard and unyielding despite the sand, he looked up at the dim yellow sphere of light bobbing around at the peak of his tent. Shifting in a slight breeze ,the walls of canvas lit up a dull yellow with reflected light and Eragon was beginning to feel sleepy. The air felt a bit less dry, now that he was in the tent. It had been really hot and dry during the day and after his first sunset in the desert Eragon had been surprised at the dramatic drop in temperature. He had been happy about this because, for one, it ment that he wouldn't have to spend the night sweating and uncomfortable. The second advantage Eragon had foreseen turned out to be void. All day he had been pelted by hot dry air, drying his lips so they would crack and making his eyes water. The fact that his surroundings had been really bright all day hadn't helped him either. A searing, cloudless sky and sunlight reflecting off the desert (not to mention Saphira) ment that he had been squinting so much that the muscles around his eyes had started to hurt after a while.

Eragon yawned, waited a bit, yawned again and spoke a word that extinguished the glowing orb. He turned on his side to sleep and half closed his eyes. But as his eyes adjusted to the darkness he noticed a yellow light that illuminated his tent wall. In a half asleep state Eragon realised that it must be coming from Desket's tent. It dawned on him that he probably hadn't been told how to turn it off. O well, he would figure it out... Eragon drifted off to sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

**Closer then Before**

Moswen entered the king's palace through the small door know as the servant's gates. She hurriedly made her way through the half lit corridors which led to the king's bedroom. When she finally arrived at the door she found the usual two guards stationed to either side of it, they all nodded and smiled to each other somewhat awkwardly (as you do when you greet someone who you barely know but meet everyday). Moswen took the medium sized ceremonial parasol from its holder by the door and the guards let her in. The king's sleeping quarters were as large as her house but contained only one piece of furniture. Admittedly the bed was almost the size of her room. Moswen heard a faint snore and breathed a sigh of relief, everything had turned out alright. At this point most people would have suddenly noticed that there was no chair in the room. Moswen was already aware of this, but standing around for half an hour or so, waiting for the king to wake up was very probably better than being late. She had been lucky this time, Moswen resolved not to be late ever again.

About twenty minutes later the king woke up. Moswen waited while a couple more servants got him dressed and then they walked down the long hall which stretched all the way around the courtyard. No one said anything but the walk wasn't at all awkward, this was in fact so much of a formal ritual that it would be impolite to even acknowledge each other. That is, it would be impolite for Moswen to acknowledge the king. The king could do almost anything and was beholden to no one except for, maybe, the high priest. So, even though he could have said something to her, he didn't because this would have put her in an impossible position. She couldn't not answer the king for fear of some terrible punishment and someone of her rank couldn't address the king unless she had been granted an official royal audience. If she did address him she might lose her job. Seeing as Moswen's family was probably already short on money, the king feared she might remain silent. So really, he was kind of looking out for her, as much as was appropriate within the confines of the law.

That's probably what he thought anyways! Moswen said to herself. The only audible noise was the clicking of their shoes on the marble flagstones as flashes of the courtyard passed by, each displaying a slightly different image. Seeing as this daily walk to the dining room has been going of for almost one and a half thousand years it's amazing to think that none had come up with the idea of making movies. On the other hand maybe they had, but none ever found out about it because the kings were expected to consult the high priest about any new idea they had. Such an idea would likely be considered heresy by any high priest who was worth his metal and saw the implications. The priests could only keep the general population under their thumbs as long as nothing could be proved.

When they arrived at the entrance to the dining hall the king proceeded on his own. Moswen turned back to head down to the servant dining hall for the half hour break she had. After the lunch break she had to do some maintenance in the court-yard. Sweeping the flagstones, and trimming and watering the plants were the main jobs. They weren't being generous to her by giving her a half hour break. It was just that it would be unthinkable for her to do trivial jobs in the courtyard right after this big ceremonious thing where she held a parasol, shielding the kings eyes from the sun. As if the second job would somehow degrade the first one.

Moswen walked up to one of the big wooden tables in the servants dining room, and was about to sit down on the long single bench which stretched the length of the table. And as is usually the case when you are about to do something, something else prevented her from doing it.

One of Moswen's working friends was a younger girl by the name of Asmira who worked in the kitchens. She ran out towards Moswen and hurriedly started to explain why she had jumped over the table to get to Moswen. Knocking off some clay vases in the proses.

"Help me I slept in the kings food for his breakfast is not ready because I slept in so I so please help me he needs to get it in five minutes or I will be done I'll get fired I really read I mean need your help now I'll get fired If he doesn't get his breakfast soon!"

Moswen got the gist and rushed into the kitchen on the girl's heels. Entering the kitchen was immediately followed by a frantic group-food-preparing effort. They sliced bread, cheese, and fruits like crazy. As the girls concentrated on other things the scrambled eggs, which the girl had placed over the biggest fire were left unattended.

A chef entered the room and seemed to be inspecting their progress. None noticed the pendant hanging from his neck. As he walked past the pan with the scrambled eggs he tipped in a clear liquid from a small bottle, which he later tossed down the drain as he was walking out. A short while the eggs were staring to burn because of the fire. Moswen quickly pulled the pan away from the fire but almost dropped it because the handle was so hot. Somehow she managed to get it to the marble counter at the center of the room though. The rest of the food was ready and they didn't have much time. Although the eggs were singed, the girls quickly agreed to add them to the king's plate anyways. You couldn't just give him chopped fruit, some cheese and very uneven slices of bread, the king was not the artistic type.

A dome was placed over the food and it was quickly taken down the hall towards the kings dining room.

Moswen put her right hand in a pot of luke warm water, it was the best you could get around here in the summer time. After a couple minutes her hand felt better and she went to have her lunch. Her mom had prepared it, as usual it was another chicken sandwich and a water-skin.

In the royal dining hall the king's food taster started choking, but it was already too late. The king looked with mild surprise at his half eaten plate and toppled out of his chair.

Ten minutes later Moswen entered the courtyard, ready to do some maintenance work and headed over to the tool shed. In front of it she noticed two cats one was black and white and the other one was a ginger. They seemed to be having some sort of affair. Moswen stopped almost guiltily, half scared to see what would transpire if she startled them, half genuinely not wanting to intrude. Besides cat's were a bit, well... Unofficially sacred in these parts and it was considered good general practice to treat them with respect if you cared about your afterlife. Moswen thought the whole afterlife business was well... Just that, a business. A business run by the priests. She didn't especially resent the for it, after all they had to make a living somehow. You weren't payed to be a priest.

She should have strode right past them, but still... Moswen cleared her throat. The cats jumped and flew off in opposite directions. The black and white one jumped up onto a nearby fence while the ginger hid sneakily on the other side of the shed. Moswen got a large shovel and headed over to a section of the fence. She needed to dig up the hard packed soil along the fence (being carefull not to dig around the supports of course) so that some plants could be put there later that day. Moswen made a slight detour around the cat. Maybe if she treated them with respect they would return the gesture. Moswen had gotten the general impression from other people that cat's had no real sense of morality, or even fairness. But she had an open mind and since she had nothing better to do Moswen decided to give it a try.

As she worked steadily from one side of the fence to the other Moswen would glance up occasionally to see if the cats had moved. Each time she found that neither had. They didn't stare at her but just went about their own business licking their paws and sum-such. It was as if they were patiently waiting for her to finish doing what she had to so they could both have some privacy. Moswen wondered if she was reading to far into this when a group of guards headed by an important looking priest came in the opposite side of the courtyard.

The priest cried out in a loud voice: "Moswen?"

What could this possibly be about she wondered. "Yes?"

The reply came all to swiftly. "You, Moswen, are sentenced to death for the murder of the King." There was a pause, presumably to let what had just been said sink in so that she would understand the next bit. "The execution will be held in five days time at the main plaza."


	19. Chapter 19

Escape

The guards and priest were still a good distance away, fifty feet maybe. Moswen didn't have time to get scared, she swung her shovel in a wide arc and released. It flew in the general direction of the group. Then she vaulted the fence like an elf.

Her escape was frantic. Somehow she managed to get to the front gates among cries of "Stop her!" and "Don't let her get away!"

Once she got out of the royal complex she weaved her way through the streets that she knew so well. Moswen ducked under a large, street vender's table with some fabric draped over it. Vaguely, she heard the two older men sitting at the table discussing things. "Let me tell you, never in my life, have I seen anyone put the milk in before the puffed up grains." "Really? I find that way they don't get as soggy..."

They hadn't noticed her get under the table but when she glanced back she wished she had picked a different spot to hide.

Moswen heard some raised voices coming from the street and she got down on the ground to peek out from under the dusty table cloth. A squadron of guards and a priest were coming down the street. A couple seconds passed and Moswen saw the priest hold up a small bronze object. As soon as she saw it, Moswen started to feel a strange compulsion to get out from under the table and give herself up. The part of her mind that was still thinking relatively clearly realized that this must be some kind of magic. She had never really believed in nonsense before. But now she felt herself slowly getting up of the ground and crawling to the edge of the table as if in a dream. She raised an arm to swipe aside the cloth hanging between her and the guards. Out of all things, the thing that snapped her out of it was a particularly good note by a street musician. She ducked back just in time. The priest looked around with a piercing look and led the guards further along the road.

Moswen waited a while until the salesmen were in earnest debate again and got out from under the table. She headed for the edge of town and the pyramids. There were lots of camels tethered there because people went to see some of their more important deceased relatives at the pyramids. There were lots of people milling about but no one noticed her, although news spread fast in the city it didn't spread that fast. The ever present street peddlers had managed to infiltrate this sacred place as well. Having found another niche in the market and were selling miniatures of things that might be useful in the afterlife. Once, when she had been younger, Moswen had come here with her mother. She remembered asking how such tiny axes, spears and shields would be of any use in the underworld. Her mother had explained that it's the idea of the object that was important. The size did not change the basic attributes of the offerings.

Moswen knew that going home was not an option for her. Surely there would already be people watching it. She glanced up at the largest of the pyramids, they were truly awe inspiring and seemed to emanate the very soul of the desert.

The desert, that's where she had to go. She didn't of any who had ever crossed the desert, with the possible exception of her father who had disappeared just after her birth. Moswen looked around for a loosely tethered camel.

She found one with supplies already slung across it's back. Not wasting any time she undid the rope that had tethered it to a wooden peg and got on. With a shaky breath and one last look backwards she rode the protesting camel into the desert. It would be a long journey, she was sure.


	20. Chapter 20

Sandstorm

It was as Firnen and Saphira were flying far back in the distance, taking a break from carrying Eragon, Desket, Angela and Arya, that the wall of sand was came into view before them. It was immensely tall and came towards the group of four at an alarming pace, howling as it did. Firnen and Saphira immediately began to head back towards them, it soon became apparent that only Saphira would make it back in time.

"Eragon!" Hurry I can take of you and Desket!" Eragon could not leave Arya with only Angela while running away from danger himself. "Take Desket and head back! I will stay with Arya and Angela to make sure the come to no harm. There wasn't time to argue, the giant sandstorm was only a few miles away and it was closing fast. The dragons would not be able to outfly it carrying two people each.

Desket was strapped down to the saddle and Saphira sped away across the dunes toward where Firnen was already making his retreat due to Arya's explicit instructions.

The two women turned to Eragon and for a brief second he felt quite proud. "Let's go to the base of the next dune were we will be partially shielded from the wind. He turned to Angela. "Arya and I can then probably set up and maintain a ward to protect all of us from the sand and dust without to much effort." Sand particles were beginning to pelt Eragon's face and arms. The three began to run towards the place Eragon had pointed out.

As Eragon brought up the rear he vaguely noticed (as one does in these times) that Arya had put on a little weight. He quickly averted his eyes in case Arya somehow noticed that he was staring a bit. But he thought it suited her since she had always been on the skinny side. He concentrated on his feet for something else to concentrate on. After a while he looked up to find Arya staring at him. How did she do that?!

After a while he got over the awkwardness and relaxed. Life certainly was good, why not enjoy it?

They reached the base of the dune a few moments before the main force of the storm hit them and Eragon had just enough time to create a makeshift magic barrier against the speeding sand particles. After they had all caught their breath Arya made some adjustments to Eragon's hurried shield. For one she allowed some air through so that they wouldn't run out of air in a few hours.

A couple hours later, even-though the sun was beginning to turn in, to the underworld for the night, the storm showed no sign of relenting. Sleeping arrangement's had to be made. The force field which they had constructed was a bit small for three people who were laying down and anyways Angela strongly disapproved of the idea of sleeping in the same room as a member of the opposite sex. It was agreed that another force field would be made for Angela but the energy to sustain it would have to come from her. Arya and Eragon were providing the energy to sustain their current sheild and it wasn't overly taxing. The energy needed to influence something with magic increased with the square of the distance, though. This was according to the elves. And it was going to have to be kept up for the greater part of the night, most likely, since the storm had only gotten stronger in the last three hours.

When Arya asked Angela if she still wanted a separate globe, Angela pulled a small glowing object from her belt. "It's alright, just draw the energy from this and not from me." Said Angela. "What is it" asked Eragon. The object resembled some sort of small dagger. "Sonic dagger." Said Angela without looking up.

Eragon turned to Arya. She gave him a puzzled look, it was clear that she had never heard of the Sonic people either. Eragon shrugged and put the matter aside, concentrating instead on creating another half sphere to protect Angela from the sandstorm raging outside. When it was done Angela stepped through the side of the shield and into another, smaller one, which then separated from the mother as Angela walked away.

Both Arya and Eragon watched her go, then they turned to one another. They both took one step closer towards the other. Arya removed a hairpin...

Later as he fell asleep with Arya laying beside him, the storm was beginning to abate, and he wondered if this was what it was really all about, surely not. Mating or sex or whatever you wanted to call it, actually looked kind of ridiculous when you weren't under it's influence. Nevertheless Eragon had to admit he felt fulfilled and he was very happy.

Then his thoughts turned to Saphira he wondered how she was doing. He knew that she and Firnen could out-fly the storm. If things went well, they could be back by tomorrow or possibly the day after... Eragon drifted into his waking dreams.

Eragon awoke to a cloudless bright sky. Arya was rolling up her half of the blankets, pillows and sleeping mat. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked about, there were dunes for miles around. Further down the valley between the dune Eragon spotted the silhouette of Angela preparing breakfast. Her magical shield was magically gone. Eragon peaked under his blanket and started looking around for his clothes.

When Eragon was dressed and had finished packing all his possessions he and Arya dismantled their shield and started toward the smell of cooking food.

"So what did you do last night?" Angela asked while stirring the breakfast. Arya laughed at Eragon's terrified expression.

After a slight pause Angela shrugged. "Never mind, don't mind me. I'll ask the most boring questions in order to make conversation. What is there to do at night really!"

During breakfast when the three sat around a smallish fire Angela had made from some sticks. She noticed with some surprise that Eragon and Arya were hugging a lot. At one point they even shared a spoon.

After breakfast, when they were sitting around sipping one of Angela's herbal teas Arya was contacted by Firnen. The Dragons and Desket had gotten close enough to the elves who had stayed behind to tell them of their situation and how they were separated. When the elves heard of the giant sandstorm and the searing heat at midday they insisted that the company return immediately They said that Eragon shouldn't try to cross such a dangerous wasteland and that they would find another home for the dragons. Maybe it would be best to return to Alegasia as they didn't yet know the dangers of these strange lands. When Arya passed on the elve's message with a grimace on her face Angela's face lit up with a smile. "Well you can tell those elves that either they are coming with us or that they are staying behind, that is their choice. Sometimes logic isn't the way to go this is certainly one of those times.

Gripped by the spirit of adventure Eragon raised his mug and made a toast. "Let us go into the unknown together. Who knows whats waiting on the other side!"

A few minutes later they got another message from Firnen. Most of Elves had decided to cross the desert with Eragon. Saphira, Desket and Firnen were also on their way.

Angela sighted contentedly.

I was then that a figure on a camel crested a nearby dune.

* * *

><p>Author's note: This is the final chapter. Though I might add a small epilogue concerning Arya, Eragon and Angela's later adventures in Moswen's desert city. It also might expand on one of my favorite theories about Angela.<p> 


	21. Chapter 21

Epilogue

They looked up at the statue "I can't move that" Eragon stated flatly. Angela glanced up at statue and then did a double take. She let out a slight gasp."I bet I can move it, but you have to step out of the room while I do it. Go look around, Arya is probably already waiting with instructions." Eragon sighed in exasperation and made a face. Angela smiled, gave him a pat on the shoulder and said that she would explain later.

As Eragon left the room he heard some noises coming from behind him. It sounded like Angela was moving the statue in short but rapid increments. It didn't exactly sound like she was moving a statue though. Also, noises seemed to be fading away, but he didn't have time to wonder about that.

Eragon closed the heavy stone door leading into the room and surveyed the city, it was shrouded in night. Sometimes lights would flicker in distant streets. Throughout the royal complex, torches were positioned to illuminate courtyards and large rooms. Eragon often spotted a flash of light as someone walked past a window with a torch. So, it was understandable that it took him a long time to find Arya's signal. By the time Eragon spotted her, the noises emanating from behind the door had died away. Arya was signalling by covering and uncovering a flaming torch.

When she had finished relaying the information, Eragon made his way back to the door, taking care not to loose his footing as he was very high up. Eragon walked into the room and found it to be empty. The giant statue was gone and Angela was gone. There was a note on the floor.

It read: "Yes! I've finally found it! (It wasn't the high priest's anyways.) I have to get going now, best of luck."

It was signed: Sincerely, one of the last time lords, but you can call me Angela.

Eragon couldn't make heads or tails of it, maybe he would meet her again someday.


End file.
